


All Things Begin to Appear

by thatfragilecapricorn



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Case File, F/M, Spoilers for "Emily", season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9401870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatfragilecapricorn/pseuds/thatfragilecapricorn
Summary: Mulder and Scully are working a serial killer case in Cleveland, but what happens when Scully starts having visions related to the case?





	1. Chapter 1

_"Strayed above the highway aisle,_

_(jagged vacance thick with ice)_

_I could see for miles, miles, miles."_

\--"Holocene" by Bon Iver

 

 

Scully juggled two cups of coffee as she walked through the dusty and dimly lit basement corridor of the Hoover Building, while trying to prevent her bag from slipping off her shoulder. The basement was normally devoid of other agents, which Scully usually found a little lonesome, but now she was glad that no one was around to witness her less-than-graceful juggling act. She had wanted to do something nice for Mulder and it was turning out to be a pain in the ass. Scully wondered if it was a bad thing that most things having to do with Mulder ended up being a pain in the ass. She used her foot to open the door to their basement office; luckily Mulder was already there and it was cracked an inch or else Scully might be sporting some first degree burns from hot coffee.

“Good morning; I brought caffeine,” Scully announced as she made her way into the office.

“It _is_ a good morning,” Mulder agreed, gratefully relieving Scully of one of the cups. “What’s the occasion?”

“Well we have that meeting with Skinner in half an hour and I thought it might be nice to have a pick-me-up beforehand.”

“Are you really that worried, Scully?” Mulder asked with his eyebrow quirked.  He took a sip of the coffee and then pulled it quickly away from his mouth when he realized how hot it was.

“No, I’m not worried, but you have to admit, Mulder, whenever we have a meeting with Skinner, he’s not exactly giving us bonuses or accommodations.”

“What’s a bonus?” Mulder jokingly asked. If there was a competition for which pair of agents would get Christmas bonuses, then Mulder and Scully were definitely in last place.

“All I’m saying is that you might be thanking me later for not letting you go into this meeting un-caffeinated.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Agent Scully. Now let’s see what the captain wants this time.” Mulder used his back to push his way out of the office, smiling at her as he exited. Scully smiled to herself and followed him.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 “Good morning, Agents, come in and sit down,” Skinner ushered them into his office. Scully and Mulder were very intimate with the two chairs that sat in front of his desk and it always made Scully feel like she was in the hot seat when she sat there.

“Agent Scully and I are curious about why you called us in here on such short notice,” Mulder commented. He was right. Scully had a message on her answering machine last night from AD Skinner, which was unusual since it was a Sunday night.

“Well, Agents, I have a case for you. And before you ask, no, it is not an X-File.” Skinner could see Mulder’s eyes widen at the word “case” and anticipated what his first question would be.

“If it’s not an X-File, then I don’t know why you would want us on it.”

Scully was well aware that Mulder _really_ didn’t like to work on cases that were X-Files and usually challenged every case they received that didn’t fit into their usual purview.

“First of all, you’ll go wherever I send you, X-File or not. Second, even though this case is not strictly an X-File, I believe that your individual expertise will help solve this case quickly and efficiently. The case came out of the Cleveland field office…”

Mulder groaned at the word “Cleveland.” Skinner pushed on.

“… It seems as though they have a serial killer in their midst. The local police force and the FBI are having trouble putting together a profile, which is why they requested your assistance, Agent Mulder. As for Agent Scully,” Skinner turned to face the red-headed woman seated before him. “…they could really use your expertise on the autopsies. While they’ve found cause of death for the victims, they hope someone with more experience might find something that their M.E. has missed.”

Skinner handed them each a manila folder. “Here are the case notes so far. You’ll be meeting up with Agent Morgan Callahan with the Cleveland field office and he will be your liaison. There is a joint task force with the local police department so you will be working closely with their police chief and detectives on the case. I’m assuming this will not be an issue?” Skinner looked pointedly at Mulder, who sometimes had what he called _disagreements_ with the local police. Scully called it “Mulder being an asshole.”

Mulder cleared his throat and blushed. “I’m sure it will be fun.”

With that, Skinner showed them out of his office, with instructions that they were to go home and pack in order to catch a late afternoon flight out of Washington.

As they walked back to the basement, Scully reflected on the case. She was looking forward to working on something that wasn’t an X-File, because she always felt more comfortable when she knew that science and reason were the only game in town. Sometimes she felt out of her element when the case involved suspected ghosts or werewolves. A regular, old serial killer was something that Scully could handle and she felt confident in her abilities in regards to a case like this.

For the past few months, Mulder and Scully had been on what felt like non-stop cases, not pausing to take a rest, or God forbid a vacation. Scully hasn’t minded, though. Since her cancer has been in remission, Scully has wanted to work and keep busy. She received a second chance at life and she wasn’t going to waste it sitting around watching TV. Obviously there were other fulfilling things she could be doing instead of working all the time but she believed that the X-Files were important and she was okay with the way her life was going right now. After losing Emily, Scully knew that she should have taken a break but working constantly was the only thing keeping her mind off that particular tragedy. Sometimes she could tell that Mulder was worried about her: that she was working too much, too hard, not getting enough sleep, etc. He could be very sensitive when he wanted to be.  Maybe he was right, Scully pondered. Maybe after this case, she would plan a trip and have some fun for once.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So what do you make of this case,” Mulder asked Scully, while he examined the case file, biting his pen and jiggling his knee. They were in the terminal, waiting for their 4 o’clock flight to Cleveland, Ohio. Yippee.

“Well I know how you balk at working on a case that isn’t strictly an X-Fire, but the reasons for wanting us on the case seem legitimate. You are an excellent profiler and I probably have a lot more experience performing autopsies of this sort than their coroner.”

Mulder smiled. “That was nice, Scully, I think that’s the first compliment I’ve heard from you all year.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Scully stated seriously, but then smiled to show that she was kidding.

Mulder turned back to the notes. “This case is weird though. I mean, how do they even know it’s a serial killer? There have only been three murders and the location of the murders along with the victims' ages, races, and occupations are all different. I don’t know, Scully, this might turn out to be a total wash.”

“Don’t be so quick to throw this case away, Mulder.” Scully looked through some of the autopsy photographs. She made sure the folder was obscuring some of the images so that passersby wouldn’t freak out. Scully has been less careful in the past and regretted it immensely when she noticed the shocked faces of people sitting around her. “All of the victims were shot at point-blank range in between the eyes.”  

Mulder wasn’t convinced. “It’s probably a gang initiation.”

Scully skimmed the case file further. “Aha! Look at this: all the victims have a connection to St. Luke’s Hospital. They either worked there, visited as a patient or volunteered.”

Mulder looked even less convinced at this information. “Scully, do you know who many people go in and out of a hospital each day? It’s probably just a coincidence.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in coincidences?” Scully challenged him.

“I don’t when the case is an X-File.”

Scully rolled her eyes at that.

Mulder continued, “But it annoys me that a small city has a few murders that they can’t solve, so they immediately think it’s a serial killer and ask for FBI assistance. Now if we can’t solve the case, it’s our fault and they can blame it on us.”

Oh dear Lord. Maybe Scully shouldn’t have been so optimistic earlier.

“Well look at it this way,” Scully pointed out, “If the murders were committed by different perpetrators and we catch them all, then we can up our solve rate for the X-Files.”

Mulder grinned at that. “Scully, that’s why I love you. You’re always looking out for the X-Files.” He tapped her knee once and then went back to the case file.

Scully blushed, but luckily Mulder didn’t see.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

By the time their flight landed, they got their luggage from baggage claim, rented a car and drove to the hotel, it was starting to get late. The agents had instructions from Assistant Director Skinner that they were to meet Agent Callahan at one of the Cleveland police stations at 9 o’clock the next morning. Luckily, Mulder and Scully were able to get two adjoining rooms. This didn’t always happen but when it did, they always left the door ajar for easy access and communication. Scully liked that she didn’t have to walk outside or through the hotel to get to Mulder because invariably he would call her in the middle of the night for some random case file or photograph.

Scully was pulling items out of her suitcase when Mulder flung his adjoining door open to find that Scully had already unlocked her side in anticipation of his dramatic entrance.

“Honey, I’m home,” he grinned.

“Mulder, go unpack.” Scully was trying to hang her suits and put some things away before it was time for bed.

Mulder flopped on her bed. “There’s gotta be something good on TV right?”

“Mulder, come on. It’s late and I’m tired.”

Mulder jumped up to stroll over to her. “You’re feeling okay, right?”

This type of behavior was residual from when Scully had cancer. Even though she’s been in remission for over six months, every time Scully mentions feeling unwell or tired, Mulder becomes very concerned. If it wasn’t so endearing, it would be extremely annoying.

“I’m alright, I promise. Just normal exhaustion from flying.”

Mulder seemed appeased. “Okay, get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He patted her on the back as he left, pulling the door behind him but still leaving it slightly ajar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is inspired by the novel "All Things Cease to Appear" by Elizabeth Brundage


	2. Chapter 2

_“The truth must dazzle gradually / or every man be blinded.”_

– Emily Dickinson

 

The next morning, the agents woke up and made their way to the precinct. Mulder drove, while Scully was the navigator. She was pretty handy with a map, if she did say so herself. The hotel wasn’t far from the precinct and they got a mini tour of Cleveland along the way. It wasn’t too different from other cities they had traveled to but Scully didn’t see much to complain about. She’d rather be stuck in a city in Ohio than in some wilderness location, while she knew Mulder would be much happier hunting Bigfoot.

When they entered the station, they were greeted by a young woman, one of the uniformed police officers, at reception.

“Hi, we’re looking for Agent Callahan. We’re the FBI agents from Washington.” Both Mulder and Scully opened up their badges.

“Yes, of course, follow me.”

The young woman, whose nametag said Officer Ramirez, brought them back to a large conference area, where several officers, detectives and agents were milling around, drinking coffee, and starting to open case files.

A middle-aged man, 40s, brown hair and medium build, walked toward them. He was dressed in a suit and tie.

“Agents, hello and welcome to Cleveland. I’m Agent Callahan and I’m real happy to see you.”

Mulder and Scully introduced themselves and Agent Callahan gave them the grand tour.

“So this is mission control. Please make yourself at home. Kitchen is open for use. The big conference table has been our meeting place but please make use of any empty desks or spaces around the precinct. We want to make sure y’all are comfortable and able to work.”

“Thank you; that is very accommodating,” Scully replied.

“Well this case is a real doozy so anything to make life easier. I’m assuming you’ve seen the case file.”

“We have, but we wouldn’t mind a more detailed explanation of what you’ve gathered so far,” Mulder responded.

“Yes of course, why don’t y’all sit down and I will bring over some files to get you familiarized with all the details.”

On their way to the table, Mulder leaned into Scully, “Is ‘y’all’ an Ohio thing too?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Scully admitted, “Maybe he’s from the south?”

“Great,” Mulder commented under his breath. Scully smacked him lightly with the back of her hand, “Play nice.”

Mulder smirked. “I’m always nice.”

Scully rolled her eyes but moved to sit at the conference table, Mulder beside her. Agent Callahan returned with a box and started pulling files and folders out.

“Ok, folks, here are the detailed files on each victim: complete medical, work and financial histories, statements from family members, friends and coworkers, the crime scene report as well as the autopsy report.” Callahan pulled photographs from another folder. “These are the pictures from the crime scenes, as well.”

“Let’s start with the first victim: Monica Johnson.” He pulled the crime scene photo of a 30-something black woman in an alleyway. There was the telltale bullet hole before her eyes. Scully involuntarily rubbed her forehead.

“She was shot two weeks ago in this alleyway here in Cleveland. It was around midnight and she was walking home from work. Monica was a paramedic here in the city so she had contact with a lot of different people but her family says she didn’t have any known enemies. Nothing in her file suggests she knew the killer and in the beginning we assumed it was a random murder.”

“Next, we have Maria Rodriguez, who was killed at the waterfront around the same time about a week ago. Another point-blank gunshot wound. We didn’t think the cases were connected at first, with the victims being different ages, races and occupations. But the fact that both bodies were left out in the open made us suspicious that this was more than just a standard murder. Usually the killers try to hide the evidence, but not in these two cases.”

He continued, “Anyway, even with the oddities we thought it might be gang-related at first.”

Mulder looked pointedly in Scully’s direction. She ignored him.

“What was she doing out so late?” Scully wondered aloud.

“Well she was out for a run. She’s a doctor and with her crazy schedule sometimes that was the only time she could exercise, according to her husband. And that’s when we started putting two and two together because Monica Johnson brought patients to the same hospital that Maria Rodriguez worked at.”

Agent Callahan kept going, “But we didn’t actually figure any of that out until we had our third victim, an older woman named Jane White. She lives in the outskirts of the city, closer to the suburbs, so not really that close to the other victims. Her body was left out on her back lawn and the neighbors assume she was letting her dog out. But she was murdered in the same fashion, gunshot wound between the eyes. Gun powder residue on her forehead indicates she was shot with the muzzle against her head, same with the other two victims. Also, no sign of the dog, for what it’s worth.”

Mulder added that note to his notepad, no doubt already trying to put together a profile of the killer even with the limited information they had obtained so far.

“Now, her connection to the other victims is that she was undergoing cancer treatments at St. Luke’s, which is the same hospital that the other two victims were associated with.”

 “That was in the case file. Is there any further connection between the victims? For instance was Dr. Rodriguez Jane White’s doctor?” Mulder inquired.

Callahan grimaced. “That’s where we lose the trail again. We know that Maria Rodriguez was not Jane’s doctor but we’re having trouble accessing her patient records to see if she has any connection with patients brought in by an ambulance driven by Ms. Johnson. It looks like we’re going to have to get a court order for them.”

“Well this is very helpful,” Mulder said as he gestured towards all of the case files. “Would it be possible to have access to the crime scenes as well as the victims’ residences? I’d like to do some looking around myself so I can put together a profile.”

“Yes, of course, whatever you need.”

“Do we still have access to the bodies? I want to look over these reports but I may want to do my own examination too,” Scully chimed in.

“Unfortunately, Monica Johnson has been returned to her family and already buried. We kept the other victims on ice once we started suspecting that there might be a serial killer at large. I can get you access to the morgue.”

“Great, thank you, that will be very helpful.”

“Alright then I will leave you two with the files. Please holler if you need anything. Here is my business card if I’m not at the station and you need to contact me. Today I’m going to be doing some questioning at the hospital to see if anyone knows the victims. Once I make that report you’ll get a copy of that as well, to help with the profile.” He handed them each a business card and left them alone.

“Fun,” Mulder muttered under his breath, pulling a stack of folders closer to him.

Scully disregarded that comment. The autopsy reports in front of her were much more detailed than the brief case file they received from Skinner and she was actually looking forward to using her brain power to help solve this case. She’s worked on so many X-Files that it was nice to have a more straightforward, non-paranormal or supernatural case to work on. Not that she was happy to be dealing with a serial killer but at least she could use science and reason to assist her and not have to rely on Mulder’s wacky, pseudo-scientific theories to solve the case.

The two agents spent the next hour going over the files, but didn’t have much luck. The victims seemed to lead perfectly normal lives, or at least nothing in their histories suggested they would be murdered, maybe by a serial killer. The autopsy results were very straightforward as well and no other information could be gleaned from the bodies other than the gunshot wound to the head. The bullet retrieved was not a match to any registered guns, so it was likely that the killer was using a gun he or she bought illegally or without a permit. Surprisingly, there was no other trace evidence to be found on the bodies; hair, skin, semen and the like were all missing, so there was no way to run a DNA test. Even so, Scully still was interested in looking at the bodies. She had seen a lot of weird stuff working the X-Files and knew the importance of a fresh eye to bring a new perspective to a problem.

But first, Mulder wanted to check out Jane White’s house.

“She was killed in her own home, Scully. That’s the jackpot! We get to investigate the crime scene and the victim at the same time. Makes our job just that much easier,” Mulder was downright cheerful with this news.

“Yes, I’m sure the killer was trying to do you a favor, Mulder, and make the cops’ job that much easier,” Scully deadpanned.

“Anyway, time to get out of the house! I’m already tired of looking at files. Then afterwards I’ll drop you off at the morgue while I check out one of the other crime scenes.”

“Are you really going to find anything at a crime scene that is not only two weeks old but is outside?” Scully was skeptical about the efficacy of that particular endeavor.

“Leave no stone unturned, Agent Scully,” Mulder intoned. “Isn’t that the first thing they teach you at Quantico?”

“No, it’s how to make a good cup of coffee. For stakeouts,“ Scully explained, once she saw Mulder’s confused look.

He laughed as he opened the car door for her.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jane White lived in modest, single family home on the outskirts of Cleveland. The area was almost residential, with manicured front and back lawns for every house. There was caution tape across the front door, with a notice that the building was a crime scene and trespassers would be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Mulder and Scully ignored the warning and ducked under the tape.

The house was furnished in the way you would expect of a 70-something woman. There were fluffy pillows on the couches, framed photos of what Scully assumed to be grandchildren, and doilies under little porcelain figurines.

The only thing not to be expected was the chill that ran down Scully’s spine when she entered the foyer. Unlike Mulder, she doesn’t believe in ghosts nor that places could have their own energy, but she felt something here. She and Mulder kept moving through until they’re in the kitchen, in the back part of the house. Scully looked out the sliding glass door, into the backyard where Jane’s body was discovered. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up straight and she had a flash of something. She couldn’t even discern was the image was, until she said to Mulder, “He was here, watching her.”

“Excuse me?” Mulder asked, clearly not paying attention to her while he was going through cabinets and drawers.

Scully cleared her throat, “He was here. He came in the house first and saw that Jane was outside with her dog. That’s when he went out and killed her.”

Mulder was bemused, “And why would he traipse through the house and potentially leave his DNA in here when he could just walk around back? I don’t know, Scully, your theory needs work.”

 “ _It’s not a theory_!” she almost snapped, but stopped herself just in time. Why was she saying that? Why did she feel, with unerring conviction, that the killer was in the house first? And why did it matter anyway?

Scully moved away from the back door to look around some more. Mulder moved towards her, his hand clutched with bills.

“Well she was definitely a patient at St. Luke’s if these medical bills are any indication. Maybe she hired a hit man so she wouldn’t have to pay them,” he chuckled.

“What?” Mulder asked after Scully shot him a withering look.

She walked toward the bathroom that was off the kitchen.

“Do you think the Crime Scene Unit looked in the bathroom for evidence?”

Mulder laughed, clearly thinking she was joking. “In your mind, this serial killer is pretty dumb, if he’s walking through his victim’s house and using the bathroom too.”

Scully entered and flicked on the light. She examined herself in the mirror (she looked a little pale but otherwise fine) and looked at the counter top and sink. She had an odd feeling about this, like maybe the killer washed his hands.  There is a lot of blood involved when you shoot someone at point-blank range.

There it is. Scully found a small fleck of blood on the underside of the faucet. Bingo.

“Hey Mulder, we need to get CSU back out here to comb the bathroom for more evidence.”

“Scully, I already told you…” he trailed off when he saw Scully’s triumphant look and his eyes followed her hand, which was pointing at the blood.

“My god, you’re right,” he sounded very surprised. “Scully, how on earth did you know?”

Scully had a flash of a tap running water, blood draining down the sink. She shook her head.

“Lucky guess,” she answered.

But she wasn’t sure it was so lucky or much of a guess.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mulder and Scully waited for CSU to arrive, which took about thirty minutes. The technicians looked chastened, because they clearly forgot to or purposely didn’t swab the bathroom for evidence. Scully wasn’t quite sure which was worse.

One of them stopped to update the agents on his way out: “We took a sample of blood, which is most likely the victim’s. However, we did find a hair.” He held up a small, glass vial in which one lone hair was encased. “We’ll see if the follicle is still attached, and if so we can send it to the lab for a DNA test. It might not lead anywhere, but it’s a start.” With that, the crime scene team packed and left, leaving Mulder and Scully to lock up the house.

As they were walking down the front porch, Mulder turned to Scully to say he would drop her off at the morgue while he checked out the alleyway crime scene. Scully agreed, anxious to see the body and if anything was missed in the autopsy. She suddenly didn’t have much faith in the local arm of the investigation.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t find anything that the Cleveland medical examiner might have missed on the body of Maria Rodriguez. Like the results that came before it, the second autopsy was very straightforward, so unlike the autopsies she did for Mulder, looking for supernatural characteristics or alien features. Feeling dejected, Scully washed her hands and returned to the lobby to wait for Mulder to pick her up. She ruminated on her afternoon and the odd sensations she had been experiencing. If Scully were a more open-minded person, say Mulder or her sister, she would start believing that she was having psychic visions. I’m spending way too much time with Mulder, she thought to herself. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more going on with her than just an overactive imagination or very good guesses. It was so bizarre that she just knew that the killer had gone into the bathroom and she didn't know how to reconcile scientific fact with her recent experiences. Scully would have kept second-guessing herself, but then Mulder showed up and she shoved the rogue thoughts into the back of her mind.

“Howdy, partner,” Mulder drawled, trying to be funny.

“Find anything?” he asked.

“Nope,” she replied, “Did you?”

“Nope,” he answered, mimicking her response. “But I have news about the hair. The follicle was attached so they got the DNA off of it, however, it doesn’t match anyone currently in the system. But the good news is that if we have a suspect we can try to see it’s a match. Good catch today, Scully.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, still trying to forget about how she knew about the blood.

“So are you hungry? I’m thinking pizza for dinner,” Mulder mused.

“Actually, I’m not that hungry. So just get what you want and I’ll eat some later,” she replied. She hadn’t really eaten anything all day but didn’t feel hungry. Which was a little odd for Scully but she was starting to get used to “odd” now.

“Are you sure? You should really eat something Scully. It looks like the two of us are the only ones pulling their weight around here so I need you on top of your game,” he said, referring to CSU’s error.

Scully laughed, “You don’t have to worry about a thing, Mulder.”


	3. Chapter 3

_“What is hidden in snow comes forth in the thaw.”_ – Swedish Proverb

 

“Mulder, do you have to eat on my bed?” Scully asked, a little annoyed that Mulder was sprawled on his side, enjoying both pepperoni pizza and the basketball game on her bed.

He didn’t look away from the TV screen and took another bite of pizza before answering: “Your TV is better than mine. Plus, I don’t want to get crumbs on my bed.”

Scully sighed. She was typing up their report from the day, a half-eaten slice of pizza before her. While the pizza smelled good when Mulder brought it over, she truly was not hungry. Scully wondered briefly if she should add that to the list of things she was worried about, which so far included potentially psychic visions and a serial killer on the loose. And somehow that was par for the course over the past five years, so maybe she didn’t need to be too worried.

Scully kept typing until the game took a commercial break, and once again Mulder’s attention was focused directly on her. She could almost feel him staring at the back of her head. It used to unnerve her but now she was used to Mulder looking at her, observing her, and most likely analyzing her. His gaze was often clinical and she always wondered what he was thinking. He usually told her, as was the case tonight.

“Scully, I’m still not convinced that this case is a serial killer.”

She turned around and all but threw up her hands in the air.

“What kind of evidence do you need, Mulder, a personal phone call from the killer?”

She was being serious but Mulder took it as a joke. “That would be helpful. But, Scully, I’m serious. There’s no calling card and the victims are so different. The hospital connection is pretty weak and even if it’s real, thousands of people are in and out of hospitals each day. How are we ever going to narrow the pool of suspects down? I’m starting to think we’ve been set up on a wild goose chase. And it’s probably by the same people who keep trying to take the X-Files away from us. They try to distract us with nonsense cases and meanwhile someone is probably at the Hoover building going through my files.”

Scully wanted to comment that whoever was going through Mulder’s desk might find a lot more than X-Files, referring to the adult magazines and videotapes that he liked to keep there, but instead she decided to reason with him.

“Mulder, all I know is that three people are dead and we don’t know who did it. So while we’re here, I suggest we try to get some work done, whether it’s a serial killer or not. Can I trust you to take this seriously?”

“Of course, Agent Scully. Speaking of taking things seriously, are you really not going to eat anything? I can’t have my partner passing out from starvation when we’re chasing after a suspect.”

Of course Mulder noticed her out-of-character behavior. She shouldn’t have expected otherwise.

She turned back to her laptop. “Mulder, leave me alone. I’m fine.”

“You’re always fine,” he muttered under his breath.

“I heard that!”

“I was just saying how much I love you,” he said a little louder.

Scully flipped him off without turning around, which made Mulder laugh. It wasn’t often he got her riled up enough for her to act juvenilely. He got up to throw his plate away and walked over to the table where she was working. He put his hand on her shoulder.

“You would tell me if you weren’t fine though, right?” he asked.

She couldn’t look at him, though she felt the warmth from his fingers seeping through her shirt. She didn’t know what to say.

“Yes, I would,” she said, not sure if she was being entirely truthful.

“Okay. Good. I’m going to bed but tomorrow we have a meeting with Agent Callahan to go over my ‘profile.’ I’ll see you in the morning.”

He went through the adjoining doorway and pulled her door closed just so the lock hit the jamb.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Scully woke with a start, her heart pounding. The image of a dead girl, lying in grass, remained in her head. She had the distinct feeling that what she dreamt was important and not just a random memory from her unconscious. The girl had blonde hair fanned out under her head and the distinctive bullet hole between her eyes. It was so real that Scully knew another murder had been committed.

It was as though she leapt through the door that adjoined their rooms in her haste to get to Mulder’s bed.

She flicked the bedside light on; her hands were on his shoulders.

He awoke immediately. “Scully, what’s wrong?”

“Mulder, there’s been another murder.”

“What?” His surprise was evident. “Did Agent Callahan call?”

Scully had to think for a moment. How did she know that there was another murder? Was that a dream that she just had? It had seemed so real.

She was caught off guard. “No. There was no phone call.  I-I think I dreamed it.”

If it was possible, Mulder looked even more surprised. “Scully,” he started.

“I don’t know how I know, Mulder, but I think it’s happened again,” she stated.

“Scully,” he said soothingly, reaching for her shoulders. “It was just a dream. This case – this serial killer, it must be weighing on your mind, causing your brain to process the details and express t hem in a dream.” He smoothed the hair back from her face, only half-sitting up as she was perched on the edge of his bed.

“And you’ve been through a lot recently, your cancer, and…” he trailed off, clearly not wanting to bring up Emily but Scully knew where he was headed. “…and you know, you haven’t taken a break from working since you recovered from cancer, either. I know a stress reaction when I see one,” he finished.

Scully felt her surety waning. She had been so positive, so sure but what Mulder said made so much sense. Plus, she knew that dreams couldn’t predict the future or act as conduits for psychic visions. Scully rubbed her eyes and covered her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what I was thinking. It seemed so real.” She was actually a little embarrassed by it all now.

“Hey,” he said. “You have to deal with my craziness daily; it’s only fair that I have to deal with yours sometimes, too.” He grinned at her. She felt herself tentatively smile back.

“Why don’t you stay here for the rest of the night?” he asked. Normally Scully would be apprehensive and it probably showed on her face, because Mulder responded with, “I’ll behave, I promise.”

Scully hesitated again but she remembered spending the night clutching his shirt after Donnie Pfaster and Mulder holding her hand as they slept after Robert Modell almost pushed Mulder to shoot Scully. Tonight felt similar and she would be glad for his presence after such an unsettling dream.

He scooted over form the edge of the bed where he had been sleeping and Scully slipped in under the covers, her back facing him. He kept his distance but put his arm around her to flick off the light and then just left it there, hand at her waist.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning Scully woke with the sun. She had changed positions during the night and now she was facing Mulder and the back of his shirt was scrunched in her hand. She was just about to extricate her from this position when the phone rang. Without missing a beat, Mulder reached over her to the bedside table to answer it. It made Scully think that he had been awake and she felt embarrassed by how close she had been sleeping to him. Scully rolled onto her back and ducked out of the way of the phone cord while Mulder listened to some early morning caller. She wanted to get up and go back to her room, but Mulder grabbed the back of her shirt, forcing her to stay until he finished the phone call.

“Really?” he asked. “What’s the address?” He paused for a moment, committing the address to memory. “Alright, we will be there as soon as we can.” He finished the call.

“What’s going on?” she queried, starting to feel a little nervous. Why was Agent Callahan calling so early?

“Scully,” he started. “There’s been another murder.”

Her heart froze and she felt sick. She was sure her fear and shock was evident on her face. What was happening to her? Even if it was just a coincidence, why was her mind betraying her, making her feel crazy? She wanted to pretend last night didn’t happen and she was annoyed at herself for waking up Mulder because now he knew that something was up with her. How could she explain to Mulder what was going on if she had no idea herself?

Scully jumped up before Mulder could analyze or question her further. “I’m going to get dressed,” she said on her way to her room. She wanted to solve this case as quickly as possible so everything could go back to normal.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They drove to the crime scene in silence. Scully was surprised that Mulder didn’t mention her dream and its potential connection to the case. Normally Mulder would be having a field day if he was working on a case that involved prophetic dreams and psychic visions. They pulled up to a park, where the murder had occurred. The playground was now swarmed with police and the crime scene team, instead of the usual parents and children. The crime scene team looked especially out of place checking for evidence around the swing set.

Mulder put the car in park. “Are you alright, Scully?”

She should have known his silence was only temporary. “I’m fine,” she answered, tersely.

“About last night…” he trailed off.

Scully made up her mind then and there about what was happening. She could explain what happened to her with logic and it comforted her slightly. “It’s just a coincidence, Mulder. The brain processes information while we’re sleeping and then formulates that information into dreams. It’s not surprising that I would dream about the case; it’s almost to be expected.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he said, apparently pleased with her answer.

He didn’t seem to want to question her further, so they got out of the car and approached the crime scene. Scully saw a detective pull back the sheet from the body lying on the grass. It was a young woman, whose blonde hair fanned around her head. Scully’s stopped walking; her mouth went dry. All she could see was the image of the same dead girl, imprinted on her mind the night before.

A hand clasped her shoulder and Scully started, the fog lifting and her mind clearing. Mulder was standing in front of her, trying to get her attention and probably to shield her from the myriad of detectives and police officers working the scene a few hundred yards away.

“Scully? What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s her,” she whispered.

“Who?” he asked.

“The girl, the body. She’s the one I saw last night. In my dream.” Even to herself, Scully sounded like she didn’t quite believe what she was saying.

“Scully,” Mulder started, as he stepped even closer. “It’s just déjà vu.” She looked up at him, surprised that he had come up with such an ordinary explanation for something she felt was so unordinary.

“What?”

“Déjà vu,” he repeated. “Something here must be familiar and it triggered the memory of your dream. But it’s not real.”

She felt the flashback, or memory, or dream, slip away and she just felt confused. She shook her head to get her bearings.

“Mulder, I don’t know how to explain it but I think there’s something else going on here,” she stated wearily.

“Like what?” he challenged, almost forcing her to say it out loud. “Literally thirty seconds ago you were spouting off the science behind dreams.”

“That was before this girl looked just like the girl in my dream!” she exclaimed, before realizing that a crime scene wasn’t the best place to have this discussion.

Mulder looked around. They had been talking when they should have been inspecting the crime scene with everyone else and eventually Agent Callahan would come looking for them.

“Let’s talk about this later,” he said and turned to walk towards the investigation. Scully let out a long breath and mentally prepared herself. She was going to have to do an autopsy and for the first time since medical school she felt queasy.


	4. Chapter 4

_“What we see depends mainly on what we look for.”_ – John Lubbock

 

By the time the crime scene investigation was over and the body transported to the morgue, it was the afternoon. Scully scrubbed up, like she had done hundreds of times before for many other autopsies. She remembered the first time she ever saw a cadaver in medical school and how the smell of formaldehyde made her stomach turn. However, after that first day she didn’t mind the smell and she didn’t mind working with dead bodies. Many of the other students were grossed out and couldn’t wait to get to treating living patients. But not Scully. It may have been morbid but she enjoyed performing autopsies, solving the puzzle of a person’s death. And if that puzzle included murder or some type of foul play, Scully wanted to be the one to bring the perpetrator to justice, so that next time there would be no dead body for her to examine. That’s why she decided to join the FBI and ultimately why she was here now, in a small Cleveland morgue.

As she pulled on latex gloves and set up the tape recorder, she still couldn’t get rid of the feeling of unease that started with her dream last night and intensified when she saw the dead girl lying in the grass. That moment of clarity, when the dream and real life united, was the oddest sensation she had ever felt. Mulder said it was déjà vu, which is the exact explanation she would have provided to anyone else in this situation. But actually experiencing it made it impossible for Scully to brush it off completely. She really didn’t want to believe in psychic visions but now it seemed as though she had no choice. Surprisingly, Scully wasn’t as closed-minded about the supernatural as she led others, including Mulder, to believe. During their work on the X-Files, they had seen all manner of paranormal activity that Scully could not explain and she knew that the world was a lot bigger and more diverse than she gave it credit for. However, if Scully put all her faith in the legends and myths that Mulder so dearly believed in, she would lose her scientific process that she utilized in her work: gathering data, coming up with a hypothesis and then testing that hypothesis. So in order to maintain some level of scientific rigor, Scully stuck to logic until even that became untenable in order to solve the case.

She would have to explain this all to Mulder at some point soon, but first she really needed to find out what happened to the young woman who lay before her on the gurney.

Scully walked over to the table and flicked on the tape recorder. “This is Dr. Dana Scully about to conduct an autopsy on Jane Doe #11256 on March 22, 1998…”

She glanced down at the body. The image from the dream reappeared. She wasn’t staring at the body on the gurney, but rather in the grass, the telltale bullet hole in the young woman's forehead. Scully opened her eyes, not realizing that they had been closed. She was still in the autopsy bay and not in the park. She let out a long breath and picked up the scalpel. When Scully started the Y incision, she could see the girl again, but this time alive and screaming, the vision clearly before the murder occurred. Scully jumped back and blinked, which made her realize that she was still in the morgue and the girl was still dead. Scully was covered in sweat and felt nauseated. She didn’t understand what was happening.

I have to do this autopsy, she thought, and pushed through, trying to ground herself in her work and close off her mind to any other intrusions.

About an hour later, Mulder knocked on the glass and pointed to the door, asking non-verbally if he could be let in. Scully nodded and shakily peeled off her latex gloves, feeling like she ran a marathon instead of conducting an autopsy.

Mulder strolled in, a file folder in his hand, but he stopped before Scully, looking at her curiously.

“Scully, are you alright? You look a little pale.”

“I’m alright, Mulder, just tired.” She didn’t feel like getting into the inner workings of her subconscious at the moment, even if it was making it feel like she was crazy. She still couldn’t get the image of the girl out of her head, even though she was now covered with a white sheet.

“Okay, well do you want to know what I’ve found or do you want to go?”

She gestured at him to continue.

“Well, our Jane Doe is no longer a Jane Doe after the police identified her. Her name is Alice Whitley and she is a junior at the local college. Her connection to the other victims: she was a volunteer at the hospital. There was nothing else conclusive from the crime scene. What did you find from the autopsy?”

“Not much, time of death was last night between midnight and 2 am, which fits the MO. She was shot again, obviously. I did find some skin cells in her nails and I sent it off to the lab. I’m guessing it will be a match to the hair found in the bathroom but if that’s the case we still don’t have an ID.”

As she was talking, Scully’s head started to ache, so she pressed the heel of her palm into her forehead. Scully hadn’t gotten a headache in a while and was uncomfortable with the pain.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Mulder sounded concerned, and lightly touched her arm.

Scully breathed in through her nose and opened her eyes. “I think it’s just a tension headache from the lights. It happens sometimes,” she lied, not really sure why she felt the need to.

“Okay, well why don’t you go back to the hotel and take a break. I’ll let Agent Callahan know what you found.”

She thought that was a good idea as she had to prepare what she was going to say to Mulder about what was happening to her.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After dropping her off at the hotel, Mulder went back to the precinct and Scully took a shower. Afterwards, her hair still wet, she lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. She took a couple deep breaths. She wondered if she could bring on a vision if she cleared her mind and relaxed enough. Maybe it was something like hypnosis.

Mulder is going to kill me, she thought. After a few minutes of meditation, Scully gave up. Nothing had happened and she was starting to get frustrated. So far, the visions hadn’t even been that helpful, instead just scaring her or making her think that she was crazy. What good is this power if it’s not even helping me solve the case, she thought miserably.

_Crash!_

A noise startled her, causing her to sit up. Her heart started racing until she realized that it was just Mulder returning from his jaunt at the police station. _Geez, does he really need to be so loud?_

Scully stood up and smoothed her clothes out, which had gotten a little wrinkled from lying on the bed. She went to the bathroom to splash water on her face. She brushed her hair, for once not minding the way it curled around her face. Usually she blow dried it so it was straight but she was too tired today.

Scully walked over to the other side of the room to push the adjoining door open.

“Mulder I want to talk to you,” Scully started apprehensively.

“Is this about earlier?” he asked. She nodded and stepped further into the room. Mulder was sitting at the table the motel provided in each room. His glasses were on and he had a few folders open and files laid out in front of him.

“I’m sorry for being rude before; I should have listened to what you have to say, even though I don’t agree with your conclusion,” he said.

“You know what I’m going to say?” she asked, curious about his powers of deduction.

“You think that you’re having premonitions about the case, in your dreams. That’s not uncommon and a lot of people experience that feeling. Hell, I’ve even thought that I was having visions before. But Scully, it’s not real,” he stated simply.

“Is that so? I thought you believed in psychic phenomenon?” she challenged. She moved a little closer to where he was sitting. It was unusual that she would have the physical upper hand in a conversation; the only time she was taller than him was when he was sitting and she was standing.

“I do, Scully, but I also believe that visions come to those that are open, receptive and willing to believe. I’m sorry to say, but you don’t exactly fit the profile.” He swung around in his seat to face her more squarely.

“So I’m just crazy then,” she responded, annoyed that Mulder could believe in entities like vampires and ghosts but not her.

“I didn’t say that,” he said, sounding irritated. “But if we’re going there I’m surprised you would even jump to that conclusion, that you’re experiencing visions. You don’t even believe in premonitions, at least you haven’t before.”

“Well, maybe I changed my mind.” With that response and her arms crossed, she felt like a petulant child.

“Oh, Scully,” he stood up and walked the few steps over to she was standing and put his hands on her shoulders. “How do I get you to change your mind about werewolves and alien abductions?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

She smiled thinly. She was still annoyed that he didn’t believe her but she was willing to let it go for the moment. At least until she had more evidence, which she felt was imminent.

“Keep dreaming on that one, buddy,” she retorted.

That made Mulder smile, too, but he didn’t let go of her shoulders just yet. “I don’t want you to think I don’t believe you or in you. I just want you to think rationally about this, like you’ve always forced me to. It’s made me a better investigator and has helped the X-Files tremendously. There’s something to be said for some rationality.”

She was surprised to hear Mulder speak that way. She always felt like she was holding him back but maybe that wasn’t the case.

“Thanks, Mulder. I appreciate that.”

He dropped his arms. “Maybe tonight you can get a glimpse of the murderer, then we can go home?” he joked.

Scully rolled her eyes, but decided to play along. “You’ll be the first to know.”

He saluted her, and she went back to her room for some much needed sleep.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Scully, wake up.”

She could hear someone talking to her, shaking her back to consciousness. She opened her eyes. The light was on and Mulder was perched on the side of her bed, looking concerned.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her mouth feeling dry.

“You were having a nightmare. I could hear you,” he stated, looking at the adjoining doors to their rooms. “What were you dreaming about?”

She could remember now, but it wasn’t clear. Gunshots rang out in her ears and when she looked down, she saw a man’s hands covered in blood. They weren’t her own. She knew they belonged to the killer that they were looking for. But Mulder already said he didn’t believe that she was having premonitions and she knew this wouldn’t convince him.

“I – I don’t remember,” she lied lamely.

She could tell he didn’t believe that for a second.

“Was it about the case?” he questioned.

She nodded and decided to throw him a bone. “There wasn’t much to it: a gunshot, bloody hands. Nothing substantive.”

“In other words, it wasn’t a vision?” he got straight to the point.

Scully suddenly felt very tired. “I don’t know, Mulder. It was very unclear. I don’t know why this keeps happening.” She put her face in her hands and leaned back against the headboard.

“Hey,” he said so that she would look at him. His eyes were wide and earnest. “We’re going to figure this out.” She almost believed him.

He continued, “And the only way to solve this is for you to get some sleep. Do you want the light on or off?”

“Can you leave it on? And Mulder, do you mind staying here until I fall back asleep?” She really didn’t want to be alone, afraid that the dream would return once it was dark and quiet.

“As the lady commands,” he teased. He pulled the covers over her as she lay back down and he scooted to the other side of the bed. She rolled over to face him, away from the light. Mulder was already facing her, lying on his side as well. She let herself look at him, taking advantage of his close proximity. The low light shadowed his features but she could still see him, her mind filling in the parts that her eyes were missing. Scully thought that she would be able to still see him even if she were blind.

“Scully, go to sleep,” he whispered. And she did.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When Scully woke up the next morning, the light was off and Mulder was gone. Besides that one nightmare, she didn’t have any more dreams, which was fine by her. She picked out her clothes by rummaging through her suitcase, wishing she brought just one more suit. When they went out of town for a case, she never knew how long they would be away and it was hard to gauge how many outfits to pack.

Scully applied a little bit of makeup and then tried to eat a banana she had bought yesterday. Not hungry again, she threw most of it away in the trash. She and Mulder were going back to the precinct to meet with Agent Callahan. Mulder was supposed to present the rough profile he created, which was pushed to the back burner yesterday when they had another body.

As she walked to the closet to get her coat, Scully felt intense pain in the center of her forehead, reminiscent of the headaches she experienced when she had cancer. She groaned and leaned forward, pushing her hands to her forehead as if she could somehow contain the pain with her fingers. After a few seconds, the pain subsided and Scully was surprised to feel wetness on her hands. Am I crying? She asked herself and looked down. Her fingers were red, covered in blood.

Scully practically ran to the mirror and there it was, blood dripping out of her nose.

She grabbed the towel hanging on the rack and feeling lightheaded, decided to sit on the bathroom floor, back against the tub. She held the white towel to her bleeding nose and every emotion from a few months ago came rushing back: the fear, the anger, the confusion. She didn’t even want to think about the tumor that was potentially growing in her forehead, but as a doctor she knew how common reoccurrences of cancer are, especially for those not long in remission.

“Scully?” she could hear Mulder shout for her. “Let’s get those little legs moving!”

She wanted to call out to him, but knew it would aggravate the dull ache that continued between her eyes, so she waited for him to find her. The room wasn’t big so it didn’t take long for him to make his way to the bathroom and see her on the floor.

Mulder rushed to her side, pulled the towel away from her nose. He saw the blood and his face turned white. The fear in his eyes made her stomach clench.

“We’re going to the hospital.” For maybe the first time ever, Scully didn’t argue.


	5. Chapter 5

_“You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.”_ – J.R.R. Tolkien

 

“Yeah, Agent Callahan? It’s Agent Mulder. Agent Scully and I have a phone meeting with our supervisor so we won’t be coming in just yet. Can I call you back later to reschedule…”

“Hi, I’m one of your patients calling because I’m away on business and I need to find a good oncologist in the area... Yes, I’ll hold…”

Mulder and Scully were both on the phone, each trying to focus on their respective conversations while talking at the same time. They probably could have gone into their own rooms and closed the connecting doors for some quiet, but that thought never crossed Scully’s mind and she didn’t think it crossed Mulder’s either. She really didn’t want to be alone, even if Mulder would have been right next door. After Mulder had found her in the bathroom, he sat on the floor with her while they waited for the bleeding to stop. It only took a few minutes and when Scully was ready he helped her to stand and handed her a damp washcloth to wipe her nose clean. She threw the ruined towel in the trash and hoped that housekeeping wouldn’t notice. When she exited the bathroom Mulder passed Scully her cell phone and they both started their calls.

After Mulder made up a story about talking to Skinner to explain why they wouldn’t be at the precinct on time and Scully found a reputable oncologist that could see her right away, they were ready to head to the hospital. Scully couldn’t think of a car ride filled with more tension than this one. She wanted to talk in order to fill the silence but every time she opened her mouth, her mind became completely blank. Mulder appeared to be in the same boat: he was silent and intensely focused on driving, which was unusual for him as he was normally fiddling with the radio, eating sunflower seeds and talking Scully’s ear off when they were in the car.

It was fitting (and a little off-putting) that Scully and Mulder ended up at St. Luke’s, the hospital that all of the victims were connected to. It wouldn’t have been her first choice, but the hospital was close, reputable and had an oncologist that was able to see her right away (even if she did have to use her FBI status for a little pull). The medical complex where the hospital was located was huge:  large emergency department, doctors’ offices, a pediatric wing, to name a few of the amenities the hospital had to offer. Scully was starting to understand how difficult it will be to find the serial killer if he or she is someone that accesses the hospital on a regular basis, just based on how many people she saw coming and going through the parking lot.

Scully checked in at the oncology department for her MRI and made her way to the section of hard chairs and outdated magazines. Sitting in the waiting room was almost as bad as the car ride. Mulder remained silent but his leg jiggled noisily against the tile floor. Scully tried to pay attention to the TV tuned to some morning talk show but it was so loud it was actually hard to focus on more than the forced laughter of the studio audience.  She glanced over at Mulder again. He looked very tense and Scully felt the need to comfort him. He was probably just as upset and concerned as she was. Scully smoothed a hand down his back to get his attention.

“Mulder, why don’t you go to the station and try to get some work done?” Now that they were in the hospital, Scully felt a tiny bit more relaxed and figured she could survive the wait on her own. She had spent so much time in hospitals during medical school that they had started to feel like home, the complete opposite of how most people feel when they are in a hospital. Those feelings must still be buried somewhere in her memories, not that Mulder’s visible anxiety was helping to quell her nervous feelings.

“I’m not leaving you here alone,” he replied.

“I appreciate that,” she said with a slight smile. “But this isn’t really productive,” referencing his anxious foot jiggling, “and there is a killer on the loose.” As much as she wanted and needed him, she was feeling a little overwhelmed by her own fear and to see that fear reflected on Mulder’s face as well was making it worse.

Mulder seemed to agree somewhat. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Because I don’t mind staying right here.”

“Go,” she stated. “I’ll call you after I get the results.”

“No,” he said, “I want to be there. Call me before you hear them.”

“Okay,” she smiled, her heart a little fuller than when she arrived.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After Mulder left, Scully picked up one of the old magazines and attempted to read an article about how women should eat super foods like blueberries. After reading the same sentence three times in a row, she stuck to just looking at the pictures.  It hadn’t been that long since she was in this same position and she tried not to dwell on how horrible a time that had been. Not only was Scully physically weak and in pain while battling cancer, but her spirit was weak too. She was afraid of dying and her life had felt unfulfilled. There was so much she had wanted to accomplish and suddenly she would never be able to. Now, mere months later, the same thing could be happening again. Scully wasn’t sure if she could go through it twice.

Luckily she didn’t have to wait long before the nurse called her for the MRI. She took a lot of deep breaths to calm herself on the walk to the machine, knowing she would have to lie still during the scan and she wanted to be somewhat relaxed. After the scan, she was sent back to the lobby to wait for the results. Normally a person would have to make another appointment and come back a different day but Scully flashed her FBI badge when speaking to the nurse. The doctor was going to put her ahead of the line, which Scully felt a little guilty about. There were other sick people who needed their appointments as much as she did, some maybe even more, but they also weren’t trying to catch a serial killer either. As soon as she was back in the waiting room, Scully phoned Mulder, who naturally didn’t pick up. She assumed he was going over his profile with Agent Callahan and left a message, hoping he got it soon. He was pretty fastidious about checking his voicemail, especially when they were on a case. That was an hour ago and now Scully was getting anxious again, knowing that at any moment the doctor would be coming to get her. She was staring at the TV and was startled by a middle aged woman in a lab coat walking towards the lobby.

 “Ms. Scully, I’m ready for you,” the oncologist announced, holding a folder that held the MRI results, and as it would be, Scully’s fate.

She stood up but didn’t move. Mulder still wasn’t here.

“Do you mind if we wait a few more minutes for my partner to get here? He should be here any second and he wants to hear the results with me,” Scully responded.

“Of course,” the doctor smiled a little, probably used to that request. “Just pop in when you’re ready. I have about twenty minutes until my next appointment.”

Scully nodded, feeling even more nervous now that she was so close to finding out the truth. She turned back to the corridor and as luck would have it, Mulder was rushing in. He widened his eyes and Scully gestured to the office, “She’s ready for us.”

As Mulder approached, he put his hand on Scully’s shoulder and squeezed. “Are _you_ ready?” he asked.

Scully took a deep breath and nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”

Mulder searched her face for a second and let go of her shoulder, seeming satisfied with her demeanor. He followed her into the office and they took the two chairs next to each other, across from the doctor seated at her desk.

“Okay, great, looks like we’re all here,” the doctor smiled. “I haven’t met you yet. I’m Dr. Hardy.” She extended a hand to Mulder and they shook.

“Alright, let’s check out these results.” Dr. Hardy pulled out the MRI scans and placed them on the lighted box. She examined the pictures for what felt like hours but was probably only seconds. She pointed to the scan, specifically the region just above Scully’s nose, in between her eyes.

“So this is where your tumor manifested when you had cancer but I’m not seeing anything now. It looks clear. Do you want to take a look?”

Scully shook her head, too in shock to respond verbally. She wasn’t sitting that far away and from her seat she could see that the image was clear. She had seen enough MRIs of the tumor to know what she was looking for.

“How long have you been in remission?” Dr. Hardy questioned.

“About 7 months,” Scully replied, still not believing that she was cancer-free. What was with the headaches, nose bleeds and lack of appetite then?

“Well you know you’re not out of the ballpark just yet, but these scans are clear. You are still in remission,” stated Dr. Hardy.

“So she doesn’t have cancer,” Mulder asked, sounding surprised. His hand found his way to Scully’s knee and squeezed. Before Mulder could remove it, Scully placed her palm over his hand, her entire body flooded with relief.

“At this time, no. Dana you are still cancer free,” Dr. Hardy smiled, clearly pleased to be offering good news to a patient. “You said you recently got a nosebleed?” she queried.

“Yes, nosebleeds were one of the main symptoms of my tumor which is why I was concerned.”

“Of course you would be worried. It’s good that you’re taking all the necessary precautions because reoccurrences of cancer are common. Luckily, nosebleeds are nothing to worry about if that’s your only symptom. It’s most likely caused by the dry air. However, I’d still like you to check in with your oncologist back home too. I’ll send over a copy of these results to your doctor's office to be included in your medical file.”

“Thank you so much, doctor,” Mulder once again leaned forward to shake the woman’s hand.

“You’re welcome. I’m sure your wife was happy to have you here.”

Mulder looked quickly at Scully who just smiled thinly back at him. Neither of them corrected the doctor.

Instead Mulder grinned. “Oh she is.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As they walked back to the car, Scully felt about ten times lighter. She hadn’t realized just how afraid she had been.

When they got in the car, Mulder looked over at his partner. “I feel like I aged ten years in five minutes and then de-aged back to normal.”

Scully could only nod; that was exactly how she felt, too.

“One of these days, Scully, you’re going to kill me,” Mulder retorted but he was smiling.

Once again, Scully nodded solemnly. He was joking but she understood what he was saying. She swallowed against the lump in her throat, the one that sometimes appeared when she looked at her partner.

“Thank you,” was all she was able to manage.

“For what?” Mulder seemed genuinely puzzled.

“For worrying,” she stated simply.

Mulder appraised her like he was looking for another answer, but ended up smiling broadly. “Anytime.”

He put the car in drive and they exited the parking lot.

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They ended up back at the police station. Mulder had wanted Scully to go back to hotel to rest but Scully scoffed at that idea. As evidenced by the MRI results, there was nothing wrong with her and she wanted to keep working on the case. Mulder eventually gave in, as he didn’t really have a leg to stand on. While Scully was at the hospital, Mulder had returned to the precinct to go over the profile he had come up with so far. But while they were in the car, Agent Callahan had called and wanted the two of them to return, stating that he had some other things he wanted to go over with them. Scully wondered if it was a break in the case and was hoping for more good news.

They walked through the lobby to the back part of the station; the other officers just nodded and let them through. They must have recognized the two FBI agents, or at least they recognized Mulder because Scully hadn’t been around as much.

Agent Callahan was sitting at the big meeting table they had used the first day. That area of the station remained the headquarters, so to speak, of this particular case. It was the most important thing on the docket right now, as most other cases were put to the back burner in order for the serial murderer to be caught.

“Hello agents,” he greeted them. “Got everything squared away this morning?”

The two exchanged quick glances before sitting down.

“Yes, we did, thank you,” Scully responded, trying to act nonchalant.

“Don’t worry about it,” Callahan brushed it off. “I know a thing or two about overbearing supervisors.”

Mulder and Scully laughed at that, though Scully quickly sobered at the thought that Skinner was long due a field report. She wondered if there was a terse email waiting in her inbox and vowed to get to work as soon as they returned to the hotel. She definitely planned on omitting the parts about the psychic visions and her visit to the hospital.

“Okay, so I just wanted to go over some reports and show you our updated timeline and the collation of data now that we have another victim. On the board behind me we have the visual representation of the case.” He pointed to a white board that was similar to something you would see in a police procedural: pictures of the victims and the crime scenes, with  some connecting lines between them. Agent Callahan started going over the crime scene evidence from the latest victim, which they had yet to hear. Mulder was taking notes to add to his profile, but Scully’s mind wandered. She looked at the white board and at the pictures of the four women who had been murdered by their serial killer. It made her both angry and sad to see four smiling women, whose lives were taken too soon. She really wanted to solve this case and see the killer brought to justice. Scully felt a tingling at the base of her neck. She looked down at her feet and she was standing in the grass, no, in the woods. There were trees around her. She was looking down but those weren’t her feet since they were too big and she was wearing work boots, which she didn’t own. The feet kept moving, leaving footprints in the mud…

“You found footprints!” Scully announced, coming out of her reverie.

Both Callahan and Mulder turned to look at her. She had interrupted Callahan mid-sentence and now felt embarrassed. Her cheeks flushed. What had she just blurted out? Something about footprints?

“How did you know that?” Agent Callahan asked. He pulled a photograph out of a folder. It was of footprints in the mud, clearly located in a forest setting.

“Men’s size 10, some type of work boot,” he added. “It’s another lead that the crime scene unit just discovered. Agent Scully, how did you know about this? Did another officer tell you?”

Mulder glared at her and she felt tongue-tied. “I – uh, I don’t know. I mean, it was just a guess,” she concluded lamely.

Agent Callahan just looked puzzled, but seemed to decide to let it go. “You must be very intuitive. I’m sure it’s very helpful on your cases,” he offered, trying to smooth over the current awkwardness.

Mulder said nothing and Scully could tell that he was annoyed. She didn’t want to advertise what was happening to her but the visions lowered her inhibitions in such a way that now she was just blurting things out. Everyone is going to think I’m crazy, she thought miserably.

“Yes, it is,” she said meekly and Mulder rolled his eyes.

After Scully’s little outburst, there was a weird tension between the three of them. Unfortunately, they all sat around the table, working on their respective tasks: Mulder adding more to the killer’s profile, Scully writing notes for her report to Skinner, and Callahan filling out his own report. Scully wanted to go back to the motel but Mulder had the car keys and she was afraid to ask him for anything after what had happened earlier.

A few moments later, Mulder offered to go to the kitchen to get the three of them coffees, leaving Scully and Callahan sitting at the table. Scully was tired of only hearing Mulder’s opinion on psychic visions so she decided to do some research.

“Agent Callahan? Can I ask you a question?”

He looked up from the papers he was rustling around, rearranging them into new folders. “Shoot,” he responded, looking a little surprised at her request.

She looked around quickly, just to make sure that Mulder wasn’t in earshot. “Do you believe in psychic abilities?”

His eyebrows shot up, but he actually considered her question.

“Is this about the case?” he asked.

“No. Yes – no, it’s just theoretical. Sometimes psychics are brought in to help police solve cases and I was just curious about your opinion on that,” she amended.

He looked thoughtful. “Police psychics are tricky. I don’t put much stock in them and I don’t use them on my cases. But not everyone feels the same way, as you’ve probably seen on TV.” He turned the question around, “What do you think?”

She hesitated. “I’m not sure. Mulder believes in psychic abilities, but…” she trailed off.

“But?” he questioned.

She paused again before responding, “But not all the time,” trying to remain as vague as possible.

“I see. Well if you’re asking me about general psychic abilities I do believe that some people have those.”

“You do?” Scully asked, surprised.

“My grandmother,” he explained. “She definitely had some sort of sense. Not so dramatic as what you see in the movies, but she knew things. I believe certain individuals are more in tune with that sort of thing.”

“Right,” Scully nodded, feeling slightly better. She turned back to her notepad.

“Agent Scully, are you sure there isn’t anything else?” He was looking at her expectantly.

“Uh, no, that was it. Thanks for answering my question.”

“Of course,” he answered, looking slightly confused.

Luckily, Mulder returned, juggling three cups of coffee, so the conversation ended as quickly as it started. But Scully was glad to hear that not everyone on the case was as close-headed as Mulder was acting. It was also good to have a potential ally.


	6. Chapter 6

_“Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others.”_ – Jonathan Swift

 

When Scully woke up, she knew it was going to be a bad day. One of those where, if she could, Scully would have rather just stayed in bed until the following day. She had had a terrible night of sleep, though she couldn’t complain too much because Mulder did as well. She kept having awful dreams, and when Mulder woke her up, she was trembling and out of breath. He ended up waking her up three different times until he gave up going back to his room and just fell asleep next to her. Scully, on the other hand, never really fell back asleep between dreams – she was stuck in a half sleep state until she returned to the dream and was subsequently woken up. She could never remember what she was dreaming, but a feeling of unease and fear followed her after every nightmare. Because of this, her frustration was palpable. She felt like there was something she was supposed to be seeing, something she was supposed to know, but it was just out of grasp. For the first time, Scully wished that a real vision would come to her, so that maybe things would be a little clearer.

It took some mental persuading, but Scully eventually got out of bed to get dressed. She could hear the shower running in Mulder’s room. He wasn’t there when she woke up but she didn’t remember him leaving. Maybe she did finally fall asleep for a little bit. She couldn’t tell though by the way her brain felt foggy and her body felt stiff. She just hoped that she didn’t look as horrible as she felt, even though she was sure that the dark circles under the eyes weren’t going to fool anyone. Too tired to move, Scully waited in her room for Mulder to come find her. He was ready just a few minutes after her and pushed the adjoining door open to beckon for her. He didn’t look that much better than her, his complexion more wan than usual.

“Rough night?” he asked. She couldn’t tell if he was joking or genuinely concerned. It was probably a mix of both.

“I don’t really want to talk about it, Mulder,” she said wearily and it was true. She was too exhausted for any of their usual banter.

Surprisingly, he didn’t respond but instead shook his car keys at her. She got the hint and grabbed her bag to follow him out to the car.

They were silent during the ride, until:

 “Scully, you want some coffee or breakfast?” he asked through a yawn.

“No, I’m not hungry,” she answered. She had been able to eat dinner last night, but the dreams brought on a nauseous feeling. She had choked down two antacids after getting dressed and was hoping that they would calm her stomach.

Mulder looked at her strangely, but didn’t comment. She could tell that he was too tired to argue when instead he reached for the radio. The current station was a news one and they were in the middle of a report.

“…A leak from the Cleveland Police Department reveals that the four recent deaths of women across the city are being investigated as the work of a serial killer. The anonymous source tells us that both the regional FBI office and agents from Washington DC are involved, trying to apprehend the suspect before he strikes again. At noon today the chief of police, Randy Dawson, will be giving a press conference in relation to the case…”

Mulder and Scully stared at each other, eyebrows raised. “Well that’s not good,” quipped Mulder.

When they arrived at the precinct, the place was a beehive of activity: phones ringing, people walking back and forth with files in their hands, uniformed officers and plainclothes detectives alike answering said phones and talking over each other. It was a lot different than the usual quiet that this precinct experienced, at least while Scully had been there. The two agents stood in the lobby, slightly dumbfounded by the sheer noise level.

“What’s going on here?” Mulder asked to himself, seemingly in awe of the hustle and bustle.

Agent Callahan spotted them from behind the counter and called, “Great, you’re here! We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

“And exactly what kind of help is that?” Scully questioned. She knew they were about to be put on some administrative task and wasn’t feeling up to it, today of all days.

Callahan looked sheepish. “Well we’ve been trying to keep the serial killer angle quiet so as not to scare everyone but someone leaked it to the press.”

Mulder rolled his eyes at that. Scully could only imagine what he was thinking.

Callahan went on, “Now all of Cleveland now knows that there is a serial killer running around and they’re freaking out.”

“And that’s what all the phone calls are about…?” Mulder sounded incredulous.

Callahan grimaced. “No, not exactly. Once the story broke we had to show the public that we’re doing all we can so we set up a tip line. Now the phones have been ringing off the hook for the past hour. We had about a hundred tips to go through. That’s why I’m glad you’re here.”

Scully could hear Mulder internally groan. Even though she understood how important this task could be, she wasn’t going to be excited about the tediousness of sorting through anonymous tips, a large majority of which were most likely totally bogus.

Callahan continued, “I won’t put you on the phones but I’d like you two to examine the tips and set aside any that look promising and we can investigate those later this afternoon.”

And that was what they did all morning. As soon as Scully made a dent in some of the tips, there was another pile waiting for her tackle. For every one tip that seemed possibly legitimate, there were ten that were totally unhelpful: provided no useful information (a caller saw a man walk by her apartment the night of the murder but can’t say what he looked like), were obviously pranks (Scully could tell because they spouted off outlandish theories, like the serial killer was possessed by Satan. She wished Mulder would stop calling into these hotlines, she joked to herself) or got important details of the case wrong so as not to be valid (for example, wrong gun used in the crimes). Sorting through the transcribed calls was a little mind-numbing and Scully rubbed her forehead. She could feel the start of a tension headache behind her eyes. She left her hands covering her face, taking a few moments to enjoy the darkness and lack of harsh florescent lights. Something lightweight hit her on the head and she looked through her fingers to see Mulder chuckling to himself. “Wake up, Scully.”

“I’m awake,” she said through a yawn, which negated her statement.

“I’ve only got one decent tip,” he complained.

“Well I hope that wasn’t the one you just threw at me,” Scully retorted.

Mulder didn’t respond, but only waggled his eyebrows at her. He turned back to the lone paper in front of him. Scully had a couple set aside. There were a few in which people claimed their neighbor might be the killer, because he or she was out the night of the murders and “seemed the type.” Normally Scully would scoff at those kinds of assertions, gut feelings or intuition not even registering on what she considered evidence. But this case had changed her perspective and she was feeling a little more open to whatever these people had to contribute. It was better to investigate these claims than sit around waiting for the killer to strike again. She still thought most of the tips were total crap though and wondered who the whistle blower was and why they felt the need to talk to the press.

Scully turned to Mulder. “Do you think this press conference is going to change the way the killer acts? Is it going to be harder to catch him?”

Mulder looked thoughtful. “It depends,” he said carefully. “The killer might be even more cautious when he kills again, so as not to be caught. He might have thought he was flying under the radar because the victims weren’t connected yet. However, it might be what he wants and therefore embolden him. If he gets sloppy, then it will help us.”

“So your profile is coming along real well, huh?” Scully couldn’t help but tease her partner.

“Har har,” Mulder deadpanned. “You try doing a profile with what I’ve got.”

Scully kept her mouth shut, but in her opinion Mulder wasn’t trying very hard because it was obvious he didn’t care about this case.

At that point, Agent Callahan returned to where they were working. He had been at the press conference and looked a little worse for wear. She was sure that the police department got a public flogging for trying to hide that there was a serial killer within the city limits.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“About as well as expected,” Callahan sighed. “Everyone is really worried and wanted to know what we’re doing to solve this case. Opening the tip line helped a little, gave folks an outlet and to feel like they’re doing something productive. We just really need to solve the case fast. A serial killer is bad for business: tourism drops, the economy suffers, people lose jobs.”

“Their lives,” Mulder muttered under his breath. Scully hoped that Callahan didn’t hear him.

“Want to take a ride around town?” Callahan asked. “We can check out some of the more legitimate tips you’ve come across. Please tell me there are some legitimate ones,” he begged, but smiled too.

“A few,” Scully said. “Probably won’t amount to anything but work checking out nonetheless.”

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A few hours later, Scully was even more tired. They drove all around the city, investigating the tips that were called in. They spoke to alleged “eyewitnesses” to the crimes and talked to those who swore up and down that this or that person was the killer. At the very least, Scully got a nice tour of the city.

They had one last tip to check out, one that Scully had picked. She was in the backseat, resting her eyes while Callahan and Mulder were looking for a spot in which to parallel park. She couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel, take a hot shower, and go to bed. She longed for deep and dreamless sleep. When Scully felt Callahan put the car in park she opened her eyes, ready for one final push through her exhaustion. They walked up to a brick row home, in a lower middle class urban neighborhood. They knocked on the door, Scully hoping that whoever answered wasn’t overwhelmed by three FBI agents. Maybe she should have waited in the car and then she could have taken a nap, she thought wistfully.

The door opened about an inch and a face poked out, clearly not wanting to open the door all the way.

“Ma’am, are you Susan Collins?” asked Callahan.

“Yes,” she responded timidly.

“I’m Agent Callahan with the Cleveland Regional FBI Office and these are two of my colleagues.” They all showed her their badges.

“We wanted to go over the details of the tip you called in today,” he continued.

“They told me that the call was confidential,” Ms. Collins stated.

Callahan glanced at the other two agents before turning back to the woman. “The call was confidential but not anonymous since you gave your name. Would you mind if we discussed this more inside?”

She shook her head, her body still mostly obscured by the door. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. What I reported earlier is all that I know.”

Scully stepped forward, since she was the one who had flagged this tip as being potentially legitimate and felt responsible for them being there. “Ma’am, you stated that you thought your neighbor might be involved somehow. That’s a very serious accusation.”

“Like I said, I don’t know much. It’s just a feeling. I know he owns a gun like the one that the killer used and he’s usually out at night. I specifically remember him being out at least one of the nights of the murders because he woke me up around one in the morning and then that poor woman was on the news the next day.”

“Where does he live?” Mulder asked. Ms. Collins nodded her head towards the house across the street. “That one, number 48.” The three turned to look. It looked just like all the other homes on the street, but when Scully saw it, she felt a buzzing start in the back of her head. Her vision doubled slightly but it disappeared when she turned back to Ms. Collins. The lack of sleep is really getting to me, she thought.

“You said that he woke you up on the night of the first murder? What do you mean by that?” Mulder asked.

“He drives a really old car and it makes a lot of noise. I could hear it rattling down the street that night,” she explained. “It’s not there now, but it’s an old Cadillac.”

“What can you tell me about him? His name would be very helpful,” Callahan asked.

“I don’t know his name. He frightens me, so I stay out of his way. I’m pretty sure he’s a renter too. Most of us are. This neighborhood isn’t very nice and most of us keep to ourselves so you’re probably not going to get much more out of anyone else. I can tell you that he’s white, maybe around 50 years old with graying hair and … about six feet tall. But that’s all I know, I’m sorry.” With that, she shut the door.

“Well that was weird,” Mulder stated obnoxiously. The three turned around to walk back to the car.

“Should we knock over there?” Mulder asked Callahan.

“I don’t know; it doesn’t look like he’s home and I want to look into him more before we unintentionally spook him if he is involved. Though, her evidence is pretty flimsy so it’s probably nothing. Don’t want to get a police harassment charge either.”

Scully wanted to say something, but she was staring at number 48 Constitution Street, her eyes drawn to the drab façade, red door and dirty windows. There was something about that house…

The buzzing sensation increased and suddenly she felt very dizzy, like the ground was spinning beneath her feet. Her vision dimmed and she felt her knees buckle. Arms grabbed her, to prevent her from falling all the way to the ground. She knew it was Mulder. It’s okay, Mulder’s here, she thought. Then the world went black.


	7. Chapter 7

_“When it is darkest, men see the stars.”_ –Ralph Waldo Emerson

When Scully opened her eyes, she was laying on the cool ground, looking up into the clear blue sky. Mulder was kneeling above her, jacket-less, which she could tell was pillowing her head. He looked very worried and she sensed that there was a hint of anger in his demeanor as well. Agent Callahan, on the other hand, was solicitous, offering to get her water from the car or even call an ambulance.

“No, no – don’t call 911. I’m fine, just a little tired,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to sit up. The buzzing was gone; instead she just felt very unsettled, especially when she glanced over at #48. Did she pass out from a vision or the lack of food, she wondered to herself, not quite sure which was to blame.

Mulder placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her, though Scully didn’t like to admit it. He was like an anchor: sometimes dragging her down with him but mostly keeping her in place.

“Agent Scully just has low blood sugar. Right, Scully? You haven’t eaten anything in a while,” he stated neutrally, though she could tell it was forced.

“Yes, that’s right,” she said, grateful for the out. She made to get up and Mulder stood first, and then gave her his hands to help her up. She felt very unsteady but took a step away from Mulder. She didn’t want his assistance anymore, especially in front of Agent Callahan. It was bad enough feeling weak but being seen as weak was even worse, especially by a colleague. However, Mulder was a lot more intuitive than she gave him credit for because he was right by her side immediately, a hand hovering over her lower back.

“Okay then,” Callahan stated. “Let’s get going so you can get some rest and something to eat.”

And with that house #48 was momentarily forgotten by the two men, though Scully couldn’t help looking over at it one last time as they climbed in the car and pulled away from the block, the ominous feeling not disappearing until it was well out of view.

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When they finally returned to the hotel, Mulder followed Scully into her room. At least he took the time to close the door before laying into her.

“Scully, what is going on with you?! You haven’t been sleeping or eating and now you’re passing out too. Something is not right here!”

Scully wanted to laugh and she wanted to cry. How in the world did she get in this position? She chuckled darkly, “I keep telling you, Mulder, but you don’t believe me. I’m having visions about the case. I don’t know what more you want from me.”

He took a step closer to her. “I want you to talk to me like a rational person! You’re acting very unlike yourself! A week ago you would have told me I was crazy for suggesting that psychic visions are real.”

“I can’t explain it, Mulder, but I know they’re real! You’re the one acting strange; you refuse to believe that this case is an X-File even though all the evidence is right in front of you!” She faced him head on, arms crossed defensively in front of her.

Mulder shook his head and reached in his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. “I’m calling Skinner and sending you home. This has gone too far.”

“ _Excuse me_?” Scully used the iciest tone she could muster. She was furious. How many times had Mulder’s wild goose chases almost gotten them killed and she never went to a higher up?

“Last time I checked, you don’t tell me what to do,” she asserted.

But Mulder was indignant. “Scully, I’m trying to help you! You’re clearly not well and you’re a danger to yourself and to me if you can’t perform your duties.”

He was making her so angry that she just blurted out the first thing that popped into her mind:

“You know what I think, Mulder? I think you’re just jealous. You wish you were the one having the visions. That way you can really become Spooky Mulder. The only thing you care about is the X-Files but only if you can control everything that’s going on!”

Mulder stared at Scully and seemed to be stunned to hear that come out of her mouth. They stared at each other for a few seconds, both agents breathing heavily.

He looked at the ceiling and then back at her.

“I do wish it was me,” Mulder finally stated quietly. “But not for the reason you think. Scully, it’s killing me seeing you like this. These visions, or whatever they are, are making you unwell and that’s why I didn’t want to believe in them. Because if they are something paranormal, what if I can’t help you?”

He looked truly sincere during his speech and all the anger that Scully had been harboring dissipated in one fell swoop. She dropped to the bed and put her hands over her eyes, suddenly feeling all at once the exhaustion that had plagued her all day. Mulder stepped closer and knelt before her.

“Scully, I’m sorry I threatened to call Skinner but I really think you should go home and get away from this place.”

She wished it was that easy. She took her hands away from her face so she could see him.

“Mulder, I’m being honest by saying that I don’t think going home will actually help. I think I’m meant to solve this case and I can’t see the visions going away until that happens,” she explained.

Mulder sighed, clearly exhausted too. He seemed like he was ready to agree with her. Finally, she thought.  Mulder stood up and then moved to sit next to Scully on the bed, both now facing a blank wall. There must be some kind of symbolism here, but Scully didn’t have the brain power to figure out what it was.

After a few silent moments, Mulder spoke again. “What did you see?” he asked.

Scully was confused at first. “See?”

“Before you passed out? Did you have another vision?”

“Oh, I didn’t actually see anything. It was more like a feeling. When I looked at that house that Mrs. Collins pointed at, there was a buzzing in my head and I felt really uneasy.”

“So what does that mean?”

Scully let out a long breath. “I don’t know, Mulder. You heard Agent Callahan: we don’t have enough evidence to pin anything on him. But if had to go with my gut, I’d put my money on that guy. Even if he’s not the killer, then he’s involved somehow.”

Mulder chuckled softly. “You sound like me.”

That made Scully smile. “I’m not sure I should take that as a compliment, Mulder.”

He bumped his shoulder against hers. “Well I _am_ always right.”

No, he wasn’t always right, she thought to herself. Though he was right a lot more than she’d like to admit, especially when they were working on an X-File. Scully could probably stand to be a little more open-minded herself, if this case was any indication.

“Hey, Scully,” he said, pulling her out of her reverie.

“Yeah?”

“I care about more than the just the X-Files.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him look at her, but she kept staring ahead.

“I know, Mulder. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He nodded and turned back to the wall too.

“I want you to know that I am going to help you solve this case as quickly as possible. I know I wasn’t the most helpful in the beginning but now I’m ready to catch this guy and get you back to normal. But I want you to promise me something.”

He kept talking, not allowing Scully to object. “I want you to try to take care of yourself. I know it’s hard right now and these visions are upsetting the normal balance of things, but you need to make sure you’re eating, sleeping and taking it easy. I know your cancer isn’t back but you _are_ in remission and you have to remember that.”

He turned towards her again, his face shadowed by the setting sun. “If it does get too bad, I want you to promise me that you’ll go home.”

She nodded this time, still facing forward, not looking at him. His request wasn’t unreasonable and she was starting to understand how the situation looked from his perspective. She just wished it didn’t have to be this way. He turned her face towards him so they could make eye contact.

“I promise,” Scully replied, looking into his eyes. He reached up to trace the outline of her brow, sealing the pact, as serious as if it were a blood promise.

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For once, Scully slept through the night without any dreams but that wasn’t actually a good thing. The only thing she remembered from the night was seeing a foggy white haze, everything else hidden from view. She was frustrated but at least she slept through the night and as a result felt a little more rested than yesterday.

Mulder walked into Scully’s room while she was brushing her teeth and announced that they were going to breakfast before starting work that day. While this did happen occasionally, usually Scully just grabbed some fruit or yogurt she stored in the room’s mini fridge while Mulder stuck with coffee. Except recently when she’s been skipping breakfast altogether, the mornings being the time where her nausea was the worst. It was a sick way to taunt her infertility, she silently told the universe, and then tried not to think about it or she might start crying.

Scully raised her eyebrows and nodded her acceptance of this plan, but luckily for Mulder her mouth was too full of toothpaste to say what she was actually feeling. Maybe she should have agreed to go back to DC, if only to escape Mulder’s “hovering,” she thought uncharitably.

They found a small eatery on the way to the precinct and sat across each other in the diner booth, examining the menu. Normally Scully would be happy to eat eggs or waffles but ever since this case started, her appetite was non-existent. She was sure it had something to do with the visions but didn’t know what the connection would be. All the fortune tellers and seers she had seen on TV were usually a little plumper than average, meaning that they didn’t have the same problem she did.

Their waitress approached, a friendly smile on her face.

“What can I get you two?” she asked.

Before Scully could open her mouth, Mulder responded, “She will have eggs, wheat toast and a side of bacon and I’ll have the pancakes.”

Scully gave Mulder her worst glare, while she silently seethed. However, she knew she could rectify this situation.

“Instead of toast could I have a side of fruit instead,” she asked the waitress sweetly. “And skip the bacon too.”

“Sure thing,” the waitress said, clearly confused by the couple’s order.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Scully whipped around to look Mulder head on.

“What?” he asked defensively. “You haven’t been eating and I want to ensure that you are going to hold up your end of the bargain.”

All her goodwill towards Mulder from the night before went right out the window. “So you decide to order for me? You have a lot of nerve, Mulder. Just because I’m not hungry for a big breakfast doesn’t mean I’m not taking care of myself.”

Mulder didn’t look convinced. “Scully, I’m not trying to be controlling. As I stated last night, I am legitimately concerned for you. If I could see you eat something and maybe get some sleep, I would feel better about this whole situation.”

Scully sighed. Not only was she drained from all that had happened since they arrived in Cleveland but as much as she tried to hide from Mulder, she hadn’t been eating a whole lot since arriving in Ohio. And Scully really hated when Mulder was right.

Throughout the meal, they hardly spoke. Scully’s eggs and fruit looked unappealing once they appeared at the table but she was able to eat some of Mulder’s pancakes. He ate her fruit so that the both of them could just pretend it was another trip to the diner where Mulder stole food from Scully’s plate when he thought she won’t notice (she always did) and Scully ate most of Mulder’s fries.

She could feel him studying her as she pushed the remaining scrambled eggs around her plate. Scully started to feel bad. He was just trying to help and the only way she could respond was to get defensive and push him away.

“I’m sorry, Mulder. I want to eat but I’m just not hungry.” She looked up at him, hoping he could see her frustration.

“I know Scully. I’m sorry if I’m being an asshole. I shouldn’t have ordered for you. I just – I don’t like seeing you not well. It wasn’t that long ago that we were in a similar situation and that was really tough,” he said, referencing the nausea she experienced with chemo treatments.

Scully reached over the table to grasp his hand. “If you’ll listen, I’ll try to be a little more open with you – about the visions and how I’m feeling. That’s what partners are supposed to do right?” she asked, a little jokingly.

He squeezed her hand and looked her in the eye. “Well, partner, if you’re up for it, I think we have a case to solve.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After breakfast, they headed back to the station. They’ve only been there a few days but it’s already starting to feel comfortable. Scully recognizes most of the officers and even though they’ve mostly been interacting with their liaison, Agent Callahan, their faces are friendly.

The phones were still ringing, though nothing like yesterday. The crazies got their kicks out already, Scully thought to herself, grateful that she no longer has to read anonymous tips claiming that the women were killed by Satan himself.

The agents sat in on the daily briefing (Scully wonders how this is the first one she’s attended) and they listened to both Agent Callahan and the police chief speak about the case. It turned out that the skin cells Scully found during the autopsy of Alice Whitley have the same DNA as the hair found in Jane White’s bathroom. However, since there is no match in the system, they have no way of knowing who the killer is. The only helpful thing is that when they do have a suspect in custody, this evidence will help to put him away.

After the meeting, the three agents got to work on the mysterious man who lives on 48 Constitution Street. Scully looked up who owns the house and found that an Anton Donnelly is the owner but the house is listed as a rental property. 

“Alright, let’s go check out this Mr. Donnelly,” Callahan declared. Him and Mulder gathered their things and started to get up. Scully stayed put.

“Scully, aren’t you coming?” asked Mulder.

“No you two go ahead. I’m going to look through these cold cases to see if our serial killer was ever active before this spree. Plus you don’t really need three agents to interview a person of interest,” Scully said.

Mulder shrugged. “Suit yourself.” And they were off.

Normally Scully would balk at being left behind to do busy work – that was why she left the lab to become a field agent. But she was nervous about what would happen if she went out in the field again. Contrary to what she should be feeling, she almost wanted to have another vision because they give her some insight into the case. But the thought of feeling ill or even passing out again stopped her in her tracks. She knew she couldn’t stay in the station forever, but she would take the opportunity to stay behind occasionally if possible.

An hour and half went by and Scully’s eyes were dry. She was looking through old paper files, ones that the police never bothered digitizing because the cases were unsolved and unlikely to ever be solved. It was tough to know how far back to look since they did not know the killer’s age. He could be young, in his twenties, or older, fifties or sixties. That left a lot of murders to go through. There were a few cases in which women were shot at point-blank range but they were one-offs (it was possible that the killer started small with one victim at a time but Scully was wary) or they were clearly the gang initiations that Mulder was originally convinced were the real cause of the recent murders.

Luckily, Callahan and Mulder returned to the station at that time so Scully could take a much needed break.

“What a waste of time,” Mulder announced as he got closer to where she was sitting.

“Really?” she asked. “Did he say anything?”

Callahan chimed in. “He said he doesn’t know the renter’s name and the man pays in cash. He gave us the same description that Mrs. Collins did – said he barely even sees him because the man usually just drops off the money.”

Scully was confused. “I don’t understand. Didn’t he have to sign a rental agreement?”

Mulder snorted. “Mr. Donnelly claims he provides a ‘service’ to the neighborhood. If his renters pay in cash, he doesn’t ask questions or run background checks on them. The guy was pretty sketchy so he probably doesn’t need any kind of contract to keep his renters in line.”

“I’m going to pass his information on to the local police so they can check him out. There are definitely some shady business dealings going on there, but I’m not worried about that right now,” Callahan said.

“So that was it?” Scully questioned.

Mulder responded, “Well we decided to take a visit to the house. See if anyone was home.”

“You did?” Scully felt a lump in the back of her throat.

“No one answered. All the shades were drawn – couldn’t see a thing.”

Scully breathed a sigh of relief. For some reason she had a bad feeling at the thought of the two men visiting number 48. Though she was sure they would be back soon enough.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scully was turning down the covers on her bed when she heard a soft knock on the adjoining door between her and Mulder’s rooms. After Mulder and Callahan had returned from their outing, the three of them continued to look at cold cases, with no luck. When Mulder and Scully returned to the hotel after a long day, the two separated and Scully used the down time to take a bath, something that she hadn’t been able to do the entire trip.

“Come in,” she called out.

“Hey, Scully,” he said, sounding a little hesitant.

“What’s up?” she inquired.

He looked around the room like he had never seen it before. “I just wanted to say good night.”

“Good night, huh?” she smiled, knowing that wasn’t all he was here for.

He rolled his eyes. “And I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier at breakfast. I know I haven’t made things easy on you and I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Scully was surprised: an apology from Mulder. She wasn’t expecting it but she wouldn’t deny that it was nice to hear.

“Thank you, Mulder, I appreciate that. And I want to say I’m sorry too for leaving you in the dark and not understanding your perspective on the situation.”

Mulder looked pleased to hear her apology. “So we’re both sorry. Should we hug it out?”

Now it was Scully’s turn to roll her eyes. Before she could respond, her nose started to itch, like she had to sneeze. She brushed her hand across her face to relieve the tickle.

"Scully," Mulder tried to get her attention. "Your nose."

She looked down at her hand, where a smear of blood has been left. She could actually feel it dripping down her face, reminding her of the more severe nosebleeds she experienced at the worst of the cancer. Scully rushed to the bathroom, feeling a little lightheaded. She grabbed another towel (they are going to have such a big hotel bill, she thinks mildly) and held it to her nose. As she's doing that she loses herself to a vision. Well, she's not sure if it's a vision or a memory, because it reminds her of time the time in her life in which she was battling cancer. She recognizes that she’s in a hospital and can hear the beeping of monitors and the steady buzz of machinery. And she’s definitely in the oncology ward because she can see the chemo stations up ahead. It looks a little like St. Luke’s but she can’t be sure…

There's a hand on her shoulder. "Scully."

That brought Scully back up to the bathroom, where she was still pressing a towel against her nose. She saw herself in the mirror, her hair almost the same color as the blood on the towel. Mulder is standing next to her, looking worried. It's becoming his default expression, she thought. But then, something clicked in her brain and it's as if her eyes have been opened. The fog lifted and the white haze gained color. She finally understood.

"Mulder," she breathed, getting excited. He just looked confused.

She moved the towel away from her face so she could talk. "I know! I know something about the killer. The killer, he - he has cancer!”

“What?” he asked, flabbergasted.

“He has the same type as I did! That has to be why I'm the one experiencing these visions. It all makes sense: the nosebleeds, the nausea, and the headaches. I’m not the one with cancer; he is!” she proclaims.

Mulder just stared at her; she could see him thinking. It took a minute before he responded:

“Scully, we need those patient records from St. Luke’s.”


	8. Chapter 8

_“He who fights monsters should see to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze for long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”_ – Nietzsche

 

“You want _what_?” Agent Callahan exclaimed, obviously not understanding the agents’ request or not believing that a sane person would ask for the something so ridiculous.

Mulder and Scully exchanged glances. They had waited until the morning to make their appeal, strategizing that Callahan might be in a better mood the next day as opposed to being called in the middle of the night. Now Scully wasn’t so sure that their plan had worked. Maybe she should have brought some coffee along to butter him up.

“The records of all patients being treated for cancer at St. Luke’s,” Scully repeated.

Callahan’s eyebrows reached his hairline. “Are you crazy? Not only will no judge grant that request but it will be impossible to go through that many files. What do you even want them for anyway?”

The two agents shifted uncomfortably. Scully knew how unorthodox their request sounded, but she absolutely needed those records if they were going to solve this case. She just hoped the rest of the precinct couldn’t hear this exchange.

 “We have a ... feeling... that the killer has some connection to the oncology department. If you remember, Jane White was being treated for cancer and she was one of the victims,” Mulder explained.

 Agent Callahan looked at the both of them, probably trying to figure out how legitimate their request was. Callahan sighed, “Why do I have the feeling that this is how you two normally operate?”

 Scully gulped. She was getting nervous that he wouldn’t be able to help them and she didn’t exactly like her competence as an FBI agent being called into question. Callahan studied both of their guilty faces for a few more seconds and then shook his head.

“I might – _might_ – be able to pull a few strings with DA and he _may_ be able to get a judge to sign a subpoena. It's a long shot though. And I still think you both are crazy.”

But with that he walked away, clearly ready to make a few calls on their behalf. Scully let out a long breath and prepared herself for a long wait.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

A few hours later, Agent Callahan dropped a stack of folders on the conference table with a loud _thunk._ Mulder, who had been “resting his eyes,” jumped at the sound, lifting his head from off the table. Scully put down the newspaper she had been reading, and sat up straight, ready to get to work.

"There’s a lot more where that came from,” he stated, gesturing towards the uniformed officers carrying boxes in. “Is there something specific we’re supposed to be looking for? Other than cancer, that is.”

Scully answered without thinking, “Nasopharyngeal cancer.”

Agent Callahan looked at her oddly. Scully opened her mouth to explain but even she didn't know how to rationalize that one.

Callahan shook his head. “You know what; I'm not even going to ask.”

They were lucky that the district attorney was in an argumentative mood today because he went to bat for those patient records, even though the legal reasoning for the subpoena was pretty weak. Luckily (or unluckily?) everyone in Cleveland was getting a little antsy regarding the serial killer so the judge was more lenient than she normally would be. For the first time in a while, Scully felt like they were on the right track and she eagerly started flipping through the files. Mulder and Callahan seemed a little more reluctant to take on such a daunting task but they got to work too.

They literally spent hours going over patient files. It’s no surprise that many people were treated for cancer at St. Luke’s, as it was known for having one of the most renowned oncology departments in the state. The agents had to comb through patient records from the past two years, which is how far the subpoena allowed.

Scully was just completing a cursory review of the files, since she knew exactly what she was looking for. She was almost positive that the killer had the same type of cancer that she did, and since it was pretty rare it would be easy to narrow the suspect pool down.

Scully opened up the next record. It was for a white male, age 52, diagnosed with a brain tumor six months ago. Bingo, Scully thought. She read on further: the tumor was located in his brain, right behind his nose. Just like the tumor Scully had a little over six months ago.

“I found him,” Scully said, not quite believing it. The other two were so engrossed in their work that they didn’t even notice that she spoke.

“I found him!” she said a little louder, startling both Mulder and Callahan. They looked at her expectantly.

She continued, “His name is Louis John Stanton. He is a white male, age 52 who is currently being treated for nasopharyngeal cancer.”

"Is there a photo?” asked Mulder, moving to look at the file over her shoulder.

“No,” Scully answered after ruffling through all the papers quickly. “But I’m sure we can look him up in the DMV database. And look,” Scully kept perusing his patient file. “His address is 48 Constitution Street!”

That sealed the deal for her. She knew, without a doubt in her mind, that Louis John Stanton was the serial killer. The address matched, the cancer matched and he matched the description that Mrs. Collins had provided. Scully felt her heart start to race, excitement building. She could not believe that they actually had him. Not only was she looking forward to going home but she was ready to put all these psychic visions behind her. It was amazing to think about all the work that had gone into this case and the answer had been waiting for them all along in a few pieces of paper in a manila folder.

Callahan actually looked impressed. “Hmm, well that’s a good sign.”

Scully was ready to grab her coat and track this man down instantly. “We have to go look for him,” she stated emphatically.

Callahan sat up a little straighter. “Now, wait a second. We can’t go confront him just yet. One, we don’t want to spook him and then he skips town. And two, a lot of our evidence is still circumstantial. We really need to put together a good case against this guy before we go talk to him.”

“We have his DNA!” Scully exclaimed, confused as to why their first step wasn’t to go bring him in for questioning.

“And you know that we can’t do anything with that until we have reason to request a DNA sample from this suspect,” he said gently. “I want to make sure this case is airtight so that when it goes to trial we can nail him.”

Mulder decided to pipe in. “I agree, Scully. We need more evidence before we try to take this guy in.”

That really set her on edge. Mulder, king of wild theories and questionable police ethics, was now the voice of reason? But from the looks on their faces, Scully knew that she wasn’t going to win this argument. So she decided to sit tight for now, allow the men to put together the case, and when she got a chance, she would go after him. She wasn’t going to let this guy Stanton hurt anyone else.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When they got back to the hotel, Scully was antsy. The rest of the day was spent building the case against Stanton. They had a lot of evidence: his footprint, his blood, his hair, his neighbor as a potential witness. Callahan was hoping to track down more witnesses that could place him or his car at the scene of the crimes. He also wanted to go back to the hospital and conduct a second round of interviews, focusing on Stanton specifically. That would take way too long, she thought. Scully wanted to get this guy now.

She paced around the room. She couldn’t sit still knowing the name and address of the serial killer that had been terrorizing Cleveland for the past few weeks. “Alleged” serial killer, she corrected herself. Finally she couldn’t take it anymore.

She knocked twice before pushing open the connecting door into Mulder’s room. He was watching TV, seemingly totally relaxed. He turned to look at her.

“What’s up, Scully? Wanna watch the game?” He smiled at her.

Scully kept pacing. “Mulder I think we should go look for him.”

“Who?” he asked, until realization dawned on his face. “You mean Stanton? The serial killer? No, Scully.”

“Why not? A lack of evidence has never stopped you before.”

Mulder swung all the way around in his chair. “Ouch, Scully. But we’re not talking about me. I think experiencing these visions has clouded your judgment.”

“ _What!_ If anything it has given me a better perspective on this case,” she argued.

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to say. You feel an even greater sense of responsibility towards the victims, which is why you feel it’s your duty to catch the killer. But Agent Callahan is right – if we really want to nail this guy we have to have all our ducks in a row.”

Scully wasn’t convinced. “Well if you don’t want to go, that’s fine. I’ll just go by myself.”

Mulder jumped out of his seat, completely oblivious to the cheers on the TV from the most recent point scored. “Like hell you are! You got near this guy’s house and passed out. What’s going to happen if you’re actually close to him? Not to mention that he’s a dangerous serial killer who has been targeting women.” He looked at her like she was insane.

Scully definitely felt a little crazy. What Mulder was saying sounded pretty similar to thing she had warned him about when he wanted to run straight into danger. However, she just knew another murder was going to occur soon and she wanted to prevent that from happening. She decided that if Mulder was going to be of no help, then she would just figure out her next step on her own.

She gave him her haughtiest look and said “I’ll see you tomorrow Mulder.” She left his room and shut her connecting door with a confident click and locked it.

Immediately, she could hear pounding. “Scully! Don’t do anything stupid!”

She ignored him, deciding that a night apart would probably be good. She walked around the room, trying to decide if she should do her own investigative work. Then she realized that Mulder had the car keys. _Damn!_ She thought. Her plan started falling apart. She could take a cab if she was desperate, but then she was at the mercy of the Cleveland taxi service.

Her nerve was fading. She hadn’t considered what Mulder said. She might react badly to being so close to the killer, especially after getting a view into his mind’s eye. She sighed dramatically and flopped down on her bed. If she was feeling charitable she would go tell Mulder not to worry but she felt like making him sweat a little. It would be payback for all the times he ran off and left her behind. Scully didn’t like acting so petty but decided she was allowed a pass for this case because of the extenuating circumstances. So instead of apologizing to Mulder like she should, she just got ready for bed and went to sleep.

Though sleep did not come easy and when she finally succumbed to slumber, she found herself immersed in a dream. Except it wasn’t a dream. She could tell because everything was brighter than normal and felt more real than her dreams usually did. It was like an out of body experience because Scully wasn’t herself – she was seeing through the eyes of the killer, or Louis John Stanton now that she had a name. She – he – was walking down a dark street and up ahead there was a tall man with brown hair. His back was to Stanton. Scully could see him quietly approach this man and put his arms around him, using a cloth to cover his mouth. Scully was horrified, but she was helpless to stop it from happening. It looked like Stanton knocking someone out with some type of drug like chloroform. But why is he going after a man and why would he not kill him? Scully tried to move or yell but she was stuck just watching the events unfold through Stanton’s eyes. This was the longest she had been immersed in a vision and it unnerved her. She wasn’t sure what she was going to see or what that meant for her psychic link to Stanton.

Scully still didn’t have a view of the victim’s face even as she felt his weight give out. She – and Stanton – lowered him to the ground and Scully caught a glimpse of his visage. It was Mulder.

Scully immediately woke up, her heart pounding. She had never been kicked out of a vision so fast so she felt very disoriented, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the dark room. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, wiping away beads of sweat that had formed there while she was dreaming. Scully was extremely confused and realized that she didn’t know when the vision was from. It obviously hadn’t happened yet so that meant it was from the future, or the very near present…

She jumped out of bed and almost sprinted to the adjoining door, needing to make sure Mulder was okay. Why did she even want this closed in the first place? When she opened the door, she realized that Mulder wasn’t in bed. Oh no I’m too late, her mind wailed. But then she noticed him sitting cross-legged on the floor, right by the door that Scully shut to keep him out. She was so happy to see him that without thinking she dropped to the floor to crawl into his lap and wrap her arms around his neck.

He didn’t react to her physical touch except to squeeze her tightly. It was almost like he was expecting her.

“Why are you on the floor?” she whispered after a few minutes of hugging him tightly, neither of them saying a word.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to go look for him,” he whispered back, his breath rustling her hair.

That reminded of her of why she went searching for Mulder in the first place.

She pulled away a little. “Mulder, I dreamt–"

But he cut her off, “No more dream talk. It can wait until the morning. Let’s just have one night without bad dreams.”

She wanted to tell him what she saw – it was vital that he know but she also recognized that it could probably wait another few hours. She just couldn’t let him out of her presence.

In response, she nodded and they remained embraced for a few more minutes, still not talking. Scully was just glad that Mulder was alright. She would worry about the dream in the morning.

Eventually, when Scully started getting sleepy again and her eyes were having trouble staying open, Mulder picked her up and carried her to the bed. He helped pull the blanket over her and moved to leave but she grabbed his wrist. Until this was all sorted out there was no way she was letting him go anywhere alone.

“Don’t go,” she said.

There was no discussion after that. He crawled in next to her and turned off the light. She could hear him breathing and it comforted her as she fell back into a dreamless sleep.

When Scully woke up, she felt the most comfortable she had been in a while. Mulder was curled around her like a comma and his body heat was seeping through her thin pajamas. She didn’t want to get up just yet, until she remembered what she dreamt last night, which made her sit up suddenly.

Mulder, who was still half asleep, whined a little and tried to pull her back towards him. She didn’t let him.

“Mulder, I have to tell you something.”

“Can’t it wait?” he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow. His hand tugged on her wrist, his thumb smoothing over her pulse point.

“No, Mulder. It’s important!” She was looking down at him, his hair ruffled. He looked much younger this way, especially when Scully had the physical upper hand, which didn’t happen often.

He turned to face her more squarely, still lying down, but now ready to listen to what she had to say.

“I dreamt that the killer abducted you.”

Mulder opened his mouth to interject but Scully cut him off before he could say anything. “I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to ask if I’m sure it was a vision. And yes I’m positive.”

“Okay,” he stated, squeezing the hand he still had wrapped around her wrist.

“Okay?” she asked, surprised that was all he had to say.

“What did you expect? An argument?” he asked, smiling.

“Well…yes,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Scully, I wasn’t lying when I said I believe you now. So if you say that the vision was real, then I believe you. The question is what we’re going to do now.”

“Well, for one I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Scully declared.

That made Mulder grin. “And I wouldn’t expect anything less. But Scully, we can use this to our advantage.”

“How?” she asked, skeptical.

He looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

That worried Scully but she decided to keep those thoughts to herself for the time being. Until they solved this case once and for all, she would have to keep an eye on Mulder and make sure nothing happened to him. Easier said than done, she thought glumly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to whoever is still reading this and I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to post the next chapter! I appreciate everyone's kind words so far :)

_“Nothing is what it appears to be, when it's only with your eyes you see.”_  - N'Zuri Za Austin   


  


“Truth or dare,” Mulder asked, popping another sunflower seed into his mouth.

“Mulder, I already told you, we’re not playing truth or dare,” Scully responded indignantly. She was getting annoyed because Mulder wanted to play stupid games like I Spy or 20 Questions and she wanted to sit in peace and quiet. “How are we even supposed to do the dare part when we’re sitting in a car?”

“So your issue is that we’re not honoring the integrity of Truth or Dare?” Mulder questioned, smiling, happy to have caught her in a verbal snare.

“No, my issue is that you’re not taking this stakeout seriously,” she snapped. It was cold out and the more they talked, the foggier the windows became and the less that she could see of what was going on outside.

“I’m not taking it seriously because nothing is happening! This is a waste of time,” Mulder complained.

They were in hour five of the stakeout of 48 Constitution Drive, the last known residence of their suspected serial killer, Louis John Stanton. Mulder and Scully were on the second twelve hour shift and there had been no sign of Stanton for the past seventeen hours. She didn’t particularly enjoy stakeouts but at least she was doing something semi-productive. She was actually surprised when Agent Callahan told the pair that he was setting up a stakeout rotation because he had been so adamant about staying away from the suspect until they had enough evidence. He and another officer had taken the first shift and there wasn’t a peep from the house during that entire twelve hours. Now Mulder and Scully were experiencing the same thing, which always made Mulder antsy and prone to annoying his partner for entertainment.

They were parked about halfway down the street, far enough away as to not arouse suspicion but close enough to still see any activity in the house. This was the closest she’d been to the residence since she passed out a few days before but Scully felt fine now. She supposed that being inside the car helped, plus she was definitely a little farther away this time around.  Though Scully almost welcomed some sort of feeling or sign to tell her she was on the right path. These visions are really something, she thought, never seeming to come at a time when she could have actually used them.

Mulder stretched, which was hard to do in this small car. “This is boring. I’m going to go check the house out again.”

“What! No, you’ll blow our cover!” Scully exclaimed, gripping his arm as he tried to leave. They were given strict instructions to watch, but not engage with the suspect if he were to appear.

Mulder scoffed as he shook her off. “Please! He’s probably not coming back but maybe he left the back door unlocked and we can check out inside.”

He opened the door, the cold air filling the car. Scully felt goosebumps on her skin and she was sure it was from more than just the freezing temperature.

After her last vision, she felt a little jumpy and more than a little protective of Mulder. And now he was just going to waltz up to the killer’s house like he was delivering the mail. Scully had no choice but to follow him.

Mulder bypassed the front of the house, instead going to the alley in order to access the back door. Scully was right behind him, her gun drawn, low to the ground. The area clearly wasn’t maintained well, with potholes in the road and trash blowing with the wind.

The house had a small back porch, with a door leading into the house. Mulder knocked twice and then waited for only a few second before jiggling the handle.

He turned back to look at Scully. “Open sesame,” he joked and pushed the door open.

Scully could only grimace. He really wasn’t supposed to be entering the house without a warrant but she knew how easy it was for cops to claim “probable cause” after the fact, especially if they find something damning.

The house was dark, as it was now after midnight. Mulder reached for the light switch but Scully grabbed him arm. “No lights,” she whispered.

He nodded, clearly agreeing with her suggestion. Instead he pulled out a flashlight and Scully did the same, holstering her weapon now that they were inside.

As soon as their small lights illuminated the house better, the buzzing that plagued Scully before returned in full-force. It was like a vibration in her skull and was rather uncomfortable. She rubbed her forehead, trying to relieve the sensation. She took a deep breath.

“Mulder,” she whispered. “How are we going to find any compelling evidence in the dark?”

He didn’t answer. She swung her flashlight around the room and realized that he was no longer there.

The buzzing increased; she was having trouble thinking, let alone investigating a murder suspect’s home in the pitch black.

“Mulder,” she called, a little louder than the last time.

She heard a crash. Mulder! She wasn’t sure where she was going but she ran towards the sound.

Mulder was standing in front of a lamp that he had knocked over. He had a sheepish look on his face. Normally Scully would chastise him but she was feeling worse and worse the longer she was in the house. The buzzing amplified to a jackhammer inside her head and she bent over at the waist, trying to relieve the pain. She dropped her flashlight, the glow bouncing off the walls as it rolled away.

“Scully?” Mulder asked, sounding concerned.

Nausea overcame her suddenly, her stomach roiling. She started coughing and Mulder stepped closer but she pushed him away and used what little energy she had left to run out of the house. Once she stepped off the porch, the buzzing subsided to dull pressure but no one informed her stomach. She threw up her dinner in an empty metal trash can that was nearby. Scully was instantly reminded of a case when she first joined the X-Files, one where she was drugged and almost slept with one of the Kindred. Once she left the Kindred’s homestead she found herself puking her stomach contents while clinging to a fence. Now she upgraded to a trash can, at least, she thought to herself. The constant in both of those experiences was Mulder, who appeared outside to catch her gagging in the back alley.

“Scully!” he yelled and rushed to her side. “Are you alright? What the hell happened?” He handed her a napkin that he pulled from his pocket and she wiped her mouth. He brushed away the hair that was stuck to her damp forehead. “Did you have another vision?” he asked.

“No. I don’t know what’s going on, Mulder,” she stated weakly and started to cry. She just felt so awful and confused and frustrated. She had for the entire case and it was finally catching up to her.

“Oh, Scully. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” Mulder soothed, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. Her fingers curled around the back of his jacket, anchoring herself to him.

He led her back to the car, in what was appearing to be the safe zone. While Scully tried to wash her mouth out with bottled water, he called Agent Callahan to ask him to send two more officers in their place that could finish their shift. It seemed that Callahan expected all kinds of weird behavior from his colleagues because he didn’t really question the request, but Scully could hear him grumbling over the phone. Mulder promised Callahan that they would wait for back-up to arrive, so as not to compromise the stakeout, so Scully sat in the passenger seat, her head against the window. The cold glass actually felt nice and she fell asleep watching her breath fog up the window.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Scully and Mulder returned to Constitution Street, though Scully waited in the car, a few hundred yards away. Mulder had told Agent Callahan about the unlocked door and how they were in Stanton’s house. Mulder’s “evidence” of probable cause (even though it was a lie) was enough for Agent Callahan to send over a squad of officers and forensics specialists.

Scully sat in the passenger seat with the door open, while Mulder leaned against the roof the car. She had no interest in ever stepping foot in that house again and she felt confident that Callahan had sent over the best, unlike the crime scene investigators who went through Jane White’s house. She was surprised that Mulder wasn't in the house too, providing his signature color commentary to the people actually working while he stood around. Normally he didn't think twice about running off and leaving her behind, but this time he didn't. It was actually really nice to have him close by, she thought.

Agent Callahan walked up to them, pulling off a pair of latex gloves that he deposited in a trash can on the sidewalk.

"So, screaming huh?" he asked with a smirk once he approached them. That's what Mulder told Callahan as to why they were in the house, since they weren't supposed to enter without probable cause.

Mulder put on his best "aw shucks" look. "I’m sorry; it must have been the neighbor's TV, officer."

Callahan shook his head. "You're lucky this case is what it is - or anything in the house would be inadmissible."

"Do you think they'll find anything?" Scully asked.

"They already found some bullet casings and are going to check to see if they match the gun used in the murders. Other than that, there doesn’t seem to be much. It looks like he may have been starting to lose his mind, though. They found some notebooks filled with ramblings. Nothing makes much sense but maybe there will be a confession written down," Callahan explained.

Scully thought of the tumor that once was pushing into her brain and shuddered. She knew exactly what the killer was going through. It also made her sympathize with him, which she didn't like. 

"I think we need a new approach," Mulder stated. He pushed himself off the car to stand a little taller.

"Go on," Callahan encouraged.

"Well, right now we're just waiting for him to show. And it's pretty clear he's not going to get anywhere near his house again. We need some way to draw him out."

"And how do you propose we do that?" asked Callahan, skeptical. 

"Host another press conference and put me on. He won't be able to resist this face," Mulder joked. Callahan and Scully just stared at him, both of them not finding the joke funny.

"I know what to say to push his buttons. He'll know we're close so he'll want to eliminate the chance of us catching him. We'll put me up as bait and then let him nab me," he insisted.

Callahan did not look impressed. "It could work but I don't feel comfortable using law enforcement as bait, especially with someone as dangerous as Stanton. Plus he's been targeting women. If we go that route - and I'm not saying we are - theoretically we should put Agent Scully up there."

"No!" Mulder said quickly.  "No - it's has to be me. Right, Scully?" he looked pointedly at her. She glared back. She knew he was referencing her vision where Stanton abducts Mulder, but she didn’t appreciate him bringing that up now in front of Agent Callahan.

She also didn't like the idea of being bait for a serial killer, but putting Mulder at any more risk, especially after the vision, wasn’t a good idea either. "He has a point, Mulder," she observed.

It was his turn to glare at her. She didn’t really care, though.

Scully continued, "You can tell me what to say during the press conference. I can be convincing and make it sound like I came up with the profile. And then I'll go off on my own afterwards. We can have someone tail me, so that if he gets near me I'll have back-up."

"No, absolutely not," he repeated. Agent Callahan was quiet during their exchange, even though the decision was ultimately up to him.

Scully smiled sweetly. "Mulder this was your idea!"

He crossed his arms and she could tell that he didn’t like his plan backfiring so spectacularly.

"If we plan it correctly, it could work. It makes more sense to use Agent Scully, though. No offense to your handsome countenance, Agent Mulder, but we have no evidence that you will be able to draw him out. Agent Scully on the other hand..." he trailed off.

“Well, she’s a woman so she already fits the profile. It just makes more sense,” he continued.

Mulder looked pissed but Scully could tell he was going to lose this debate. 

Callahan kept talking, "Anyway, I don't know if I will even be able to get it approved. I'll bring it up to the police chief. In the meantime, you two figure out where we might be able to draw him out. There has to be someplace that is familiar to Stanton, a place that he might be lurking around in."

And with that, the decision was made.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mulder and Scully decided to do some exploration of Cleveland in order to determine where Stanton was most likely to show up. They drove to the crime scenes and around the more unsavory parts of the city. Scully was tired from last night and had trouble keeping her eyes open. They were out late last night and then the nausea never really went away so Scully had trouble sleeping once they returned to the hotel.

She thought back to the vision she had with Mulder. At first, she tried to forget about it, because it scared her, but now she needed it. If she could find where that vision occurred (or where it was going to occur - future tense) then they had a location to start from. How she would explain that to Agent Callahan she had no idea, but she would worry about that later. 

Her eyes still shut; she immersed herself in the memory. It was a lot clearer than normal memories and she assumed that it was due to the fact that it was a vision. Just like before, Scully was seeing through the killer's eyes, which was extremely unnerving. However, she had no control over the vision, so she couldn't look around to find a landmark. She could only view what Stanton saw, which was the dark and dirty alleyway, the cracks in the pavement. Come on, she thought. There has to be something here. When Stanton moved to grab Mulder (which made Scully's stomach turn) she made sure to focus on his peripheral vision. She could see part of a sign on a door, most likely leading to some sort of business: 

DELIV 

The rest was cut off. There was a phone number on it too or at least part of one:

 -0335.

The memory ended and Scully opened her eyes. She hadn't realized but the car was stopped and Mulder had pulled over to park on the side of the road. He was peering anxiously into her face and she noticed that his hand was gripping her shoulder rather tightly.

"Scully!" he said again, shaking her a bit, though her eyes were now open and she was obviously awake. She looked at him, feeling confused.

"You wouldn't wake up," he said, a little quieter now. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded. "I know where we can find him. We have to call Agent Callahan."


	10. Chapter 10

“After all, the true seeing is within.” - George Eliot

Scully paced around the back of the stage, the paper in her hands slightly trembling. She didn't usually mind speaking in front of people - she had even testified in front of Congress for chrissakes - but today she felt uncharacteristically nervous. Scully didn't know if it was the fact that there was a big auditorium filled with people or the fact that there were several media outlets that were going to film and record her or the fact that she was trying to draw out a dangerous serial killer. Either way, the combination of the three was making her hands sweat and her heart race. The press conference was also taking place at a local high school and that distinct "school" smell was giving her flashbacks of her teenage self and how that person did not like speaking in front of class so much.

Luckily before Scully could send herself into a full blown panic attack, Mulder approached her, having to skirt around some technicians on ladders fixing the lights. All the other law enforcement officers present for the press conference, including Agent Callahan, the chief of police and a few detectives, were in the green room, drinking coffee, probably not nervous at all because all they had to do was stand there for the cameras. At least that was what Scully assumed.

"Are you ready?" Mulder asked, once he finally navigated successfully to her side. He must have noticed her stricken expression because his face softened and he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and then smoothed a hand down her right arm.

She could only nod, afraid to open her mouth.

"You're going to do a great job," he said earnestly but then changed to a more serious tone to say, "But I really don't like that you're doing this. If you change your mind, I can still get up there and make the report, Scully."

"No," she replied, suddenly a little bit more confident. "It makes so much more sense for me to be the bait. Plus, we need to keep you out of harm's way."

He stared at her and she stared right back, probably a little too intensely. Mulder let out a sigh and looked away.

"Alright," he conceded, most likely only because he knew he wasn't going to win this argument. "You know what to say?"

"Yes, Mulder," she droned, shaking the paper in front of her face. The two of them had went over Mulder's notes for hours, trying to make sure Scully understood everything about the case, or at least enough to be able to answer questions from the curious media. Tonight was the night that they were going to reveal their suspect. Normally this isn't how investigations are conducted (outing the suspect before he has been arrested), but based on his profile Mulder was certain that this type of exposure would embolden Stanton instead of sending him running for the hills.

At that point the other officers and agents who were hanging out in a classroom-turned-green room started filing in behind the curtain where the partners were standing, ready to take their place on the stage. Scully checked her watch; only about five minutes until the eight o'clock start time. Mulder squeezed her shoulder quickly and then left to take his seat in the front row of the audience. Scully and Agent Callahan both agreed that he should stay out of view of the cameras and Mulder only argued a little bit against that request. Funnily, Agent Callahan strolled over, not looking anxious at all, just like Scully suspected.

"How ya feeling?" he asked, sounding sympathetic to her plight. He had been very reluctant to let any of his agents or the local officers participate in this kind of trap but went along with it after the Cleveland police chief liked the idea. The city residents were getting restless without any break in the case which is why they were going through with his potentially dangerous mission.

"I'm okay," she said, taking a deep breath. She needed to be relaxed on stage so that Stanton didn't get suspicious. This is just like any other press conference, she thought to herself. 

"Hey, don't sweat it. This," he gestured around, "is a piece of cake. The hard part comes later. You know, looking for Stanton. But we're going to mic you so you'll always been in contact with the team that's tailing you."

He paused, and then continued. "That location you scouted? Are you sure that's where he'll show up?"

Scully hesitated. It was tough working with another FBI agent and to figure out how much to disclose. Most of the time her and Mulder worked alone and sometimes with the local police who usually deferred to their authority, which was helpful because they encountered so much unbelievable phenomena that it would be near impossible to have someone else in the loop with them. When Scully found the alleyway that her vision occurred, Mulder just relayed to Stanton that it was based off his profile and it was in the vicinity of the murders. The last part was true, at least. 

"Well, it is just a hunch," she hedged. "But Mulder is very good at figuring out this kind of thing. You know that he caught Monty Props right?" she hoped that bringing up the old case (Mulder's crowning achievement, at least according to the FBI) would alleviate some of Callahan's concerns and prevent him from analyzing things too much.

It seemed to have worked because Callahan smiled and responded with, "Yes of course, of course. Well, if you're sure then we'll go along with your plan."

The lights in the backstage area dimmed and everyone quieted down so Agent Callahan smiled again and stepped away. The police chief was going to speak first and announce the suspect. Then Scully was going to describe their profile, call Cleveland to action and answer questions from reporters.

The curtains opened to reveal the stage to the crowded auditorium. The flash of cameras made Scully blink a few times. She didn't understand how celebrities could tolerate all those flashing lights. The set-up was simple: a lectern in the middle with the American and Ohio state flags book-ending the stage. The police chief, Robert Harley, stood behind it with Scully at his right hand. Agent Callahan stood to his left and the other detectives who were assigned to the case stood around them. The mayor of Cleveland was also in attendance and he was going to speak afterwards. 

Just act natural, Scully thought to herself, trying to arrange her features into a neutral expression for the cameras. If only it were that easy. She caught Mulder’s eye in the audience and he smiled. Here we go…  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
After the press conference, Scully felt an immense sense of relief, even though, as Callahan had mentioned, the hard part hadn't even happened yet. As far as she could tell, she did a good job. She answered the reporters' questions (luckily none of them were too hard) and didn't even have to look too much at the notes in front of her. The media and the public in the audience seemed appreciative of the effort put into the case so far and no angry townsfolk with pitchforks had disrupted the event. 

She didn't get a chance to talk to Mulder afterwards, which was their plan but Scully was going to renege on that part. She wanted some type of reassurance from him before putting herself up as bait for Stanton. But luckily (or unluckily) Mulder ignored her as per their agreement. The cameras might still be rolling or Stanton could even be in attendance, which is why they agreed to avoid each other in the first place. He did give her a subtle wink on his way out, though, but Scully figured she would talk to him tonight afterwards. Hopefully it would be at the station once Stanton was captured. 

So after she shook hands with the mayor and gave a short interview to a local radio station, Scully left for the police precinct. It was there, under Agent Callahan's scrutiny, that she was mic’ed and given a Kevlar vest to wear under her jacket. Luckily it was cold out or Scully would be sweating with the lead vest and a winter coat to hide it. Her visit was quick (in case Stanton was observing) and she left the station with a file folder, so it looked like she had a reason for the trip. 

Mulder had relinquished the rights to the rental car for the night, so that was how Scully was going to get to the location. She turned on the car and had to blast the hot air because of the cold, the heat from her recent drive completely dissipated. She glanced in the rear view mirror, where she could see a nondescript white van idling. She knew it was her tail, the officers who were listening to her on the mic and that she could hear their chatter in her ear. They were the ones who would apprehend Stanton if he appeared.

She drove around the city a little. She wanted to make it seem like she naturally stumbled upon the location. She stopped at the drug store and picked up some more hairspray. She didn't actually need it yet but she would eventually so she didn't charge it to the FBI expense credit card. Then she moved on to the gas station. It was parallel to the alley that the vision occurred in. She put the nozzle in her gas tank and tried to act like she was bored, like it was no big deal for a woman to wander around the alley next to the station. She stood around, ostensibly reading a notice about NO PARKING but really listening intently and using her peripheral vision to scope out any guests. Nothing. She went back to her car, got in and decided to wait. Come and get me asshole.

Scully waited two hours. That's when she started to get antsy. She could hear the two other agents through her earpiece. They at least were having fun - listening to the recap of a basketball game. After three hours, Scully decided to give up. She clearly had not drawn the killer out. 

She decided to call Callahan and see if she could get the okay to leave. But when he picked up the phone, he started talking before Scully even opened her mouth.

"Have you talked to Agent Mulder recently?" he demanded.

Scully was caught off guard. "No - no," she stammered. "Why would I? I wasn't expecting to."

"Well I've been calling him for the past two hours and then I went to your hotel and he's not there."

Scully didn't understand why he was so worked up. "Agent Callahan, I have something to tell you about my partner. He's not always the most responsible. His phone is probably dead and he most likely went out for a run."

"Does he usually leave the hotel door open too and the key card on the floor?"

Scully was surprised. "What? No! Okay, I'm leaving right now and should be there shortly." She ended the call and then put the car into drive. Luckily the hotel wasn't too far away and there would be no traffic since it was so late.

Scully didn't know what to think about that interaction. On the one hand, the situation Callahan just described was normal Mulder behavior (except maybe the door and missing key). But on the other hand, this case was so wacky that there could be something more sinister at play. Not for the first time this case, Scully cursed the visions she was having. Why couldn't she have seen this coming? she thought. Though, she DID see this coming. Scully had the feeling that she had been terribly, terribly wrong but she wasn't quite sure why.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Callahan was pacing around the parking lot when Scully pulled up. 

"What are you doing?" she called to him after she turned the key out of the ignition and locked the door.

"I'm waiting for the manager to pull the outside security footage. Right now I'm looking for clues," he stated.

"What do you expect to find?" she asked. Scully still wasn't sure Mulder was actually in trouble but seeing Callahan so agitated was making her nervous.

"I don't know, I just have a bad feeling about all of this. We set that trap for Stanton but what if he was one step ahead of us the whole time. What if he knew we were so focused on you that Agent Mulder would be vulnerable?"

"And how would he know that?" she asked coldly. This was getting into Scully's psychic vision territory she was starting to feel defensive for no good reason.

"No idea," Stanton said, pausing to look at his phone screen. "That's the manager calling. Let's go in."

Scully was glad to be out of the cold when they entered the lobby and Callahan showed her to the security room. There were a lot of television screens with feeds to all areas of the hotel. The manager was standing in the back while one of the security guards started the tape for them. There wasn't a camera in their hallway but rather one right by the elevator. At 9:22 Mulder gets off the elevator. A bellhop pushing a laundry cart follows him out. Scully squinted her eyes. The view was so grainy but she could swear he looked familiar. At 9:24 the bellhop returns to the elevator and goes down with the laundry cart again. She glanced at Stanton who was grimacing. She turned back to the monitor. They were watching the bellhop wait for the elevator to return. There was no sound, but he doubled over coughing, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. The screen was black and white but after he wiped his mouth, the handkerchief was covered in a dark substance.

Scully's heart stopped.

"That's him," she said, her voice low.

"It is?" Callahan asked. She pointed to the screen. "This man is ill. Look at the blood he wipes away from his mouth. It has to be him."

They locked eyes and Callahan let out a deep breath. "Okay. Let's get this bastard."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to whoever is still reading and any new readers who may have stumbled upon my fic. I'm sorry it's taken me so terribly long to update this. The finale will be here soon :)


	11. Chapter 11

"If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is - infinite." -William Blake

After that, things began moving very quickly, though Scully was having trouble taking her eyes off the screen. They had paused the tape on the moment when Stanton coughed into the handkerchief but that's not what she was looking at. Scully was staring at the laundry bin. Is Mulder really in there? she thought to herself.

In her peripheral vision, Callahan was barking orders into his phone, already connected with the Cleveland PD. "Get an APB on FBI Agent Fox Mulder. You should have copy of his ID and picture. Start sending it around and have dispatch alert all on-duty officers." He clicked his phone off and turned to the hotel manager. 

"I need you to round up all your employees right away. We need to start interviewing them to see how Stanton got access to a uniform and was able to pose as an employee."

The manager, an older gentleman, ran off looking worried. Scully wondered if he was actually worked about the kidnapping or about the liability the hotel now faced.

"Agent Scully!" Callahan snapped, before seeming to realize that she was not one of his subordinates. His voice softened a fraction. "I'm going to need your help interviewing. Are you up for that?"

Scully finally turned away from the screen. "Interviewing the employees? We don't have time for that! Who knows what Stanton is going to do to him!"

"We have no idea where Stanton went and we haven't had much luck locating him up to now. That isn't going to change. But now we have potential witnesses. He might have said something, done something, to indicate his next move."

Callahan continued, "I hate to pull rank but I am the lead on this investigation. Do I have to order you, Agent Scully?"

She stared at him, weighing her options. She didn't like the situation at all but knew she had to play by the rules. At least for now.

She gestured toward the door. "What are we waiting for then? Let's go." And she walked briskly past him to the lobby.

\--------------------------------------------------

The interviewing was useless. None of the employees had any idea that they unknowingly walked past a serial killer and most of them were too frightened of an FBI interrogation to much help at all.

The process took about two hours, with Scully and Callahan interviewing groups of employees at a time. She could hear him yelling in the room at them next door, ranting about how they didn't recognize Stanton after all the news coverage. While Scully was pissed too, she was trying to rein it in because she knew that it was not the way to find Mulder. She started losing her patience after the last group of employees though, since it was a complete bust. 

"Anything?" she asked Callahan when he arrived after the last group left the room. 

"Nothing," he sighed wearily. He checked his watch. It was after midnight. "I'm assuming it's the same for you?"

"Yes. No one seemed to recognize that there was a serial killer among them."

"Okay, well I'm going to go back to the station. See where we're at with the search. But you should stay here and get some rest. I'll call you in a few hours."

"What?! No! I'm not staying behind," Scully fumed.

"Agent Scully, you were up half the night conducting the stakeout. You're no help if you're exhausted. I can't have you passing out again. I'll call you if there's a lead but I can't have you roaming the streets during the night."

Scully flushed. She was actually really embarrassed and more than a little annoyed that that episode was going to stop her from finding Mulder.

She went back upstairs. Mulder's door, which was right next to hers, had yellow DO NOT ENTER tape across the frame. The exact same tape that Scully and Mulder had walked under to get into Jane White's house. Scully started at it, the hair raising at the back of her neck. Deja vu, she reminded herself. It only looks familiar. 

She didn't want to go to sleep and she didn't want to be in this room. She wanted to look for Mulder. But she was so exhausted and her bed was almost beckoning her. Scully decided just to rest her eyes for a moment. Five minutes, she told herself. And then she would get up. Instead she fell straight into a vision.

Well it wasn't exactly a vision because it was a memory of the time Scully and Mulder visited victim Jane White's house. Scully remembered that she was killed letting her dog out and in her dream (memory? vision?) Mulder was leaning over to pet a small Shih Tzu. 

When Scully opened her eyes, she was still laying on her bed. She checked her watch. 20 minutes had passed. What a strange dream. She expected it to be a vision but it didn't feel like one. It also didn't leave her breathless, queasy or feeling sick. It was also in line with some of her other benign dreams: pretty realistic but one thing was off so she knew it wasn't reality. The dog had reminded her of Queequeg and she smiled to herself in spite of the situation.

She was still thinking about her poor dog (the one she didn't want but then somehow came to like) when she went to the bathroom to splash water on her face. The water was cold, which was good because she wanted to wake up. When she stood up to dry her face she looked in the mirror. A small drop of blood was hanging just at the edge of her nose and it suddenly fell to the sink, making little splatters. 

Scully had a flash of a memory, from when she was in Jane White's bathroom and she saw the tiny specks of dried blood on the faucet. Another flash: bloody hands washing themselves in the sink. It was one of the first visions Scully had experienced, before she even knew they were visions.

She grabbed a tissue to wipe her nose and then cleaned the sink quickly just to get the blood off. That's when she knew.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was driving in her car, trying to dial Agent Callahan's number. Driving one-handed was not ideal but Scully did not want to waste any time making the phone call. Instead she was blazing down the almost-deserted streets of Cleveland. 

"Agent Scully?" he asked.

"I know where he is!" she said. "You have to get everyone there – at the third victim’s house. I'm heading there now."

"What? How do you know where he is?"

There was a long silence in which Scully debated how much to share. 

“Agent Scully!” he prompted, sounding impatient.

"Agent Callahan, I'm going whether or not you believe me. I can't explain how I know but I do."

She could almost feel him hesitate, the pause after her response heavy.

"Do you trust me?" she asked him.

"Don't do anything stupid," he warned, which seemed his way of confirming his feelings. "We're right behind you. We'll be able to get him out. Just wait before you go in." He hung up the phone.

Scully threw the phone on the passenger seat. Sorry, she thought, but there was no way she was going to wait.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scully slowed down as she approached Jane White's house. Even though she wasn't going to wait for back-up it didn't mean she would just barge in. She wanted to use her surprise entrance to her advantage and try to catch Stanton off guard.

It was dark and the neighborhood obviously didn't feel the need to fix the broken street lights. Scully was able to approach the house just using the moonlight. There weren't any lights on inside, but that would have been pretty stupid and Scully didn't expect Stanton to make things that easy for her. She wondered where in the house they were. She drew her gun from her holster.

Now that she was closer to the house, the buzzing that she experienced at Stanton’s residence returned. She knew that he was here. She had her chance. Scully took a deep breath, trying to ease the sensation. She didn’t want to be incapacitated when she went to save Mulder. She stalked around back, hoping to get a better lay of the land from the back porch. She eased the fence door open and stayed close to the side of the house. It was dark but she couldn’t risk her shadow from the moonlight being sighted. She knew that the police weren’t too far behind her; she just hoped that Agent Callahan was able to rally the troops with the limited information she provided. Scully looked through the back windows. The kitchen was still and dark. So the pair were either upstairs or in the basement. She was certain that Mulder was still alive. He had to be. 

She ignored Callahan’s missive and pulled the door open, holding her breath. She stepped inside. She could see the door to the basement and knew the staircase was at the front of the house. Where to start? Scully decided to go up.

She had never treaded so lightly when she walked. She tried to anticipate where there might be squeaky steps and tried to distribute her weight as evenly as possible. Up on the second floor, she opened the first door on her right. It was a linen closet. The next door was open to a bathroom. The third room that Scully happened upon was closed. She turned the knob so slowly her hand was shaking.  
When she opened the door, her eyes swept the room. In the middle, there was Mulder tied to a chair. His mouth was gagged so he was unable to talk but it looked like he was trying to tell her something. She stepped toward him and he was shaking his head at her.

He must have been warning her but Scully did not realize until it was too late. She sensed a large black shape in her peripheral and it tackled her to the ground. When she hit the floor, she lost her grip on the gun and it went flying somewhere in the dark room. Now that Stanton (she assumed) was so close, the buzzing intensified right to the center of her forehead, reminiscent of some of her worse headaches when she had cancer. He loomed over, another gun pointed at her chest, presumably the one he used in the murders.

“Get up!” he yelled.

Scully lay frozen on her back, afraid to move.

“Now!” he roared.

She scrambled to her feet but felt pretty unsteady. She took a look at Stanton, whose face was a little clearer now that it was illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. He looked terrible and not unlike others fighting cancer: gaunt, dark circles under his eyes, thinning hair. Though it could have been the strain of murdering several people, Scully thought to herself.

“You,” he stated. “Why can’t I get you out of my head?” he cried, using one hand to rub furiously at his forehead. 

Scully was startled. He was having visions too? Of her?

“What?” she breathed. She didn’t know if talking would make him angrier but she went with her gut.

“You see them too?” she asked, hoping if she could forge a connection with him.

She could see Mulder swinging his head to look at the both of them. She just hoped he would stay quiet and let her try to reason their way out of this.

“I feel like I’m losing my mind,” he said, lifting his head a little. Scully could see blood dripping from his nose. At the same time, she could feel an itch on her upper lip. She wanted to scratch it but she was unsure of how he would react to her sudden movement. When the itch traveled to her lip, Scully realized that her nose was bleeding as well. Scully took a deep breath, trying to ignore the throbbing in her head. It looked like Stanton was losing that battle, though he still had an actual tumor pressing into his brain.

“I just want it to stop. Make it stop!” He took a step closer to her, the gun making him appear very menacing. Scully wasn’t sure how to save herself. She noticed the street below them suddenly light up in blue and red lights. Agent Callahan made good on his word.

The lights distracted Stanton and he turned to look out the window. Scully saw her chance and knew that Stanton was even more incapacitated by her presence. She kneed him in the groin and pushed him to the ground. She was able to disarm him. As he lay prone on the floor, Scully pointed the gun at his chest. For the first time all night her hand was steady.

She could hear the front door being broken and yells of “Police!” and “Show yourself” filled the house.

It was a matter of moments before the SWAT team appeared in the room, the lights on their helmets making Scully’s eyes hurt. Agent Callahan was right behind them wearing a bulletproof vest. He looked surprised – that Scully was right or that everyone was alive. She wasn’t quite sure.

She handed him the gun – the murder weapon – and said, “Evidence.” She had seen enough and was ready to leave and not look back. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
After Mulder was checked out by the EMTs (thankfully he was fine except for a bump on his head), they leaned against the rental car observing the commotion of Jane White’s house – the swarm of police and crime scene techs, the neighbors who were awoken by the blue and red flashing lights and the news vans that wanted to capture some footage for the 6 am news.

“I suppose this is where I’m supposed to say thank you,” Mulder commented dryly, handing her a tissue to wipe her nose. The bleeding was finally stopping now that the police had driven Stanton downtown.

“No thanks needed, Mulder. You know that,” she replied.

“I know,” he bumped her shoulder with his. She grabbed his hand and didn’t let go for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully it's not too "deus ex machina" - y. :)


	12. Epilogue

_“You can close your eyes to the things you do not want to see, but you cannot close your heart to the things you do not want to feel.” – Tabitha Suzuma_

She was having trouble sleeping, but not for the usual reasons. She crept into Mulder’s room through the adjoining door and laid her hand on his shoulder; he awoke instantly. It seemed that this case had made him even more in tune with Scully’s needs.

“Scully! Is everything alright? Did you have another vision?” he asked, sounding worried.  
“No, I just couldn’t sleep,” she whispered.

Mulder pulled back the covers so she could slip in next to him. He was lying on his back and Scully curled up next to him. He ran his fingers through her hair.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” she said quietly. Once she was out of Stanton’s presence, her nose stopped bleeding and her head stopped pounding. It had been almost 24 hours since the excitement of the previous night and Scully did not have a vision. She definitely felt better and was ready to say goodbye to Cleveland.

“I was thinking,” she started.

“Uh oh,” Mulder joked.

Scully turned so she could see him more clearly. She began again. “I was thinking that I wanted to thank you. For believing me.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he said.

She pushed herself up on one elbow, “No, you don’t need to apologize. You’re the only one who would have believed me. Even when you didn’t want to, you trusted me.”

“It looks like Agent Callahan believed you,” Mulder countered.

Scully rolled her eyes. “But not like you did. Like you do. Even when it wasn’t easy, you were there for me. So I wanted to thank you. If I hadn’t been able to accept what was happening to me I think everything would have turned out differently. And I learned that from you.”

Mulder turned to face Scully more squarely. His fingers outlined her face. She didn’t expect him to lean in and gently press his lips to hers but she would be lying if she said she didn’t like it.

“Of course, Scully. Of course,” he whispered when he pulled back a moment.

She moved closer to kiss him again, with a little more intent this time. But Mulder pulled away again after a minute.

“You should get some sleep,” he stated with a smile.

“Is that your way of playing hard to get?” she asked with a smirk.

He laughed softly. “Absolutely. But I also have this partner that gets cranky when she doesn’t get enough rest.”

“Hey!”

He cupped her cheek. “She also had a pretty rough week and deserves some dreamless sleep.”

Scully had no complaints with that. She turned back on her side and allowed Mulder to curl around her. While she may not have had another psychic vision, Scully was able to see so much clearer now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to everyone that has read and commented! If you're still reading now (5 months later...) I really appreciate it! Sorry for the long wait. The next time I write a multi-chapter fic I promise to be better at updating!!


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